


This Isn't A Kingdom

by ilovehowyouletmefall



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Buffy Wishverse, Drug Use, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Delay/Denial, small suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 01:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 42
Words: 34,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3310190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovehowyouletmefall/pseuds/ilovehowyouletmefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With no Slayer to defeat the Master when he rises, Rupert Giles and Jenny Calendar unexpectedly find themselves working with a group of students, struggling to hold back the forces of darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Sunnydale was a place of contradictions, Giles decided: a nexus of unspeakable evil; and a small, dull, unbearably American town. On the morning of the first Sunnydale High staff meeting of the new semester, it was the latter.

The staff room was pleasant and boring, awash in shades of beige, with a tired-looking couch, and an even more exhausted microwave sulking in a corner. The gathered faculty hovered around the long meeting table where platters of stale sandwiches were arranged, waiting for Principal Flutie to call them to order. They sipped bitter coffee from Styrofoam cups and made small talk about the weather. Apparently it was an unusually cold January, a fact that Giles noted with some alarm. At the current temperature, a tweed three-piece suit was a reasonable wardrobe choice, but he was dreading the summer.

Giles was contemplating a congealing tuna salad sandwich and regretting having skipped breakfast, when Flutie bustled towards him.

“Ah! Mr. Giles, before we get started, I'd like you to meet someone,” he said, and gestured for Giles to follow him.

Bemused, Giles did. Admittedly, he hadn't met many staff members yet, but he couldn't imagine any of them being particularly important.

Flutie led him to a pair of young teachers chatting by the coffee thermos. A fresh-faced man in shirtsleeves, and a woman in clunky shoes and a leather jacket.

“Craig, could you give us a second?” Flutie asked as he approached.

“Sure,” the young man said, with a glance at his companion.

“Talk to you later,” she said.

Craig smiled, and blushing, ducked away.

“Rupert Giles, Jenny Calendar; Jenny Calendar, Rupert Giles,” Flutie said, nodding to each of them in turn. “Mr. Giles is our new librarian.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ms. Calendar said, offering her hand.

“Indeed,” Giles replied.

Ms. Calendar shook his hand firmly. She was slight, even with the added height of her shoes, but she held herself with a confidence that exceeded her size. He could see why Craig was reluctant to leave her company.

“And what do you teach?” Giles asked, still unsure of why Flutie wanted them to meet.

“Computer science.”

Giles chuckled ruefully. “Ah.”

“What?”

“Technology and I are not on the friendliest terms,” he explained.

It seemed as though Ms. Calender's eyes narrowed a fraction, but she continued smiling genially.

“Well, it's nice to see you two hit it off,” Flutie said, clasping his hands and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You're going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Really?” Ms. Calendar asked.

Flutie's bouncing intensified. “I'm going to make the announcement at the staff meeting, but...” His voice lowered in volume but rose in pitch, “we finally got funding to digitize our library collection!”

Although Giles recognized the words, he had no idea what they meant. “To what?”

“Every book in the Sunnydale High library will be made available online!”

As far as Giles was concerned, this raised more questions than it answered. “Why?”

Ms. Calendar cut in, “Better preservation of texts, easier searching, accessibility-”

“Or we could simply teach students how use a book,” Giles said, only half-jokingly.

“Maybe,” Ms. Calendar granted. Then she continued, “If you think only pompous antiques should have access to knowledge. But in case you haven't noticed, this is a high school.”

It took Giles a second to register the insult. Once he did, he replied with all the false sincerity he could manage, “Forgive me, I didn't realize that our goal was to instruct students on how to be ignorant philistines.”

“Okay!” Flutie interjected. “Isn't it great that we can all have different opinions, and still work together on the same team? Right?” He looked from one to the other, but neither responded, intent as they were on staring each other down. “How about we get this meeting started?”

Ms. Calendar sat down abruptly, apparently not noticing where Craig was signaling for her to sit next to him.

Giles took a seat as far away from her as possible. He pulled off his glasses and began cleaning them, while doing his best to focus his thoughts on what preparations he had to make for the arrival of the Slayer, or even on whatever Flutie was saying. But he kept returning to how unfortunate he was to have a colleague like Ms. Calendar.

For her part, Ms. Calendar was thinking that she'd never met anyone so pretentiously obsolescent as Mr. Giles, and if they were forced to work together, she'd make sure he knew it.

Principal Flutie, though perturbed by the disagreement between his two newest staff members, thought the meeting went well in general, and was a positive start to the new semester.

None of them could have guessed how much would change with the Harvest.


	2. Two

Everyone saw what happened at The Bronze on the news. The piles of the dead, the message in blood, _HE IS RISEN_. Few saw the less literal writing on the wall.

There was school the next day, as if nothing unusual happened at all. Some of the seats were empty in class, some of the students were especially quiet, anxiously eying the spaces their friends normally occupied. Other students hardly noticed.

Shafts of sunlight beamed through the tall windows of the computer lab like a blessing, and the classroom was alive with chatter. But for Jenny, the mood of the day was captured by the black backgrounds and dark text favoured by those in the technopagan community, as she trawled the Internet for omens and portents, some way to make sense of what had happened the night before. She'd given her students a period of free lab time so she could concentrate, and most of them took the opportunity to gossip instead of use the computers. Despite her intentions, she could overhear them trading stories about various horrors they'd seen in Sunnydale, each one confirming her suspicion that there was something deeply evil about the place.

She'd just managed to get a hold of an expert on blood rites and human sacrifices in a chat room, when one of the students approached her desk.

“Is this important?” she asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.

“I was just wondering if you've seen Willow around?”

Jenny paused. Willow's absence was the first that she noticed that morning. The girl was always so bright and eager to learn, the best in the class, and the emptiness of her workstation was conspicuous.

She turned her attention to the boy. His face was tense, and his eyes wide, like a lost child.

“No, I haven't,” she answered gently. “Xander, right?”

He nodded and shuffled his feet. “It's just, I know she loves your class, so if she knew she was going to miss it, maybe –”

“I'm sorry,” Jenny said sincerely. Maybe too sincerely, too final-sounding.

Xander shrugged it off. “Gotta congratulate her tomorrow,” he said, smiling weakly. “First time playing hooky.”

Jenny returned his smile with one just as weak, and he went back to his desk. She watched him – fidgeting restlessly one moment, still and staring the next – for a while, before she remembered that she was in the midst of a conversation that could provide answers.

* * *

 Giles was alone in the library, as was usually the case. When he'd first seen the place, he'd thought it was perfect – lots of space for training, room for his personal collection of occult texts as well as weapons, and hardly ever frequented by students. Despite the school building it was a part of, the library _felt_ old, with weight and substance, like the libraries he was used to in England.

Without a Slayer, it was, all of it, truly empty.

Earlier in the day, Giles had called everyone he could think of – running up the school's long-distance bill, but that would hardly matter if everyone was dead the next day. He'd discussed, and pleaded, and argued with everyone he could get a hold of. But the Slayer was bound elsewhere. The Council wasn't sending any help at all –

Not immediately, anyways, he reminded himself. The Slayer's change of plans was a surprise to everyone, of course the Council needed time to deliberate, to make the best decision. Giles may have had his differences with them in the past, but they wouldn't abandon an entire town. They'd send help soon.

But for the moment, for that swiftly approaching nightfall, Giles was alone.

The study table was piled high with books, as he searched desperately for something he could do to forestall whatever attack was certain to come. The diaries of past Watchers offered no guidance; they'd all had Slayers to face down the demons. He had weapons, but no one to wield them.

Except, he realized, that wasn't quite true.

There was something he could do. Really, it was the only thing.

 


	3. Subject: IMPORTANT

To: blackmagickat@hotmail.com  
Subject: IMPORTANT  
Date: Thursday, 6 March 1997 17:07  
From: jcalendar@sdh.edu

 

Hi Kat,

Remember how I told you I was getting a weird vibe from this place? I was right. And it's worse than I thought.

A lot of people were killed last night. By some kind of demons. Maybe vampires. I don't have time to explain everything, but it was like a declaration of war. I _felt_ something, something old and evil. And people are freaked out but they don't really understand what's happening. The mayor's on TV telling everyone that things are under control. Some of my students were joking about going out tonight.

I'm going to try something to help. I have to. You understand.

Katja, I want you to know that I wouldn't have made it past sixteen without you. If you don't hear from me again, I love you, and wish you the best.

Don't let the family send anyone after me.

Your cousin,

Janna


	4. Three

Sunnydale was small enough that if you wanted to find a lot of people, or a lot of victims, there were only so many places to go. What passed for a downtown area was centred on a single intersection, with shops and restaurants, a movie theatre, and a trendy coffee spot. As the sun set the tree-lined sidewalks were teeming with pedestrians, the fading light casting their faces in an orange glow.

Jenny didn't look at their faces as she crossed from one corner to the next. Instead, she concentrated on making sure that the holy oil she was drawing a circle with was pouring steadily, that she didn't miss a word of her whispered incantation. She was certain she was getting strange looks, but that wouldn't matter soon.

Jenny stopped on the corner by the Espresso Pump, digging through her purse for the ceremonial candle she'd brought.

“Ms. Calendar! What're you doing here?”

Jenny looked up. One of her students was sitting on the patio – Nancy, a sharp kid, but with a personality wound as tightly as her curly hair. She was at a table alone, books arrayed before her, a large mug of coffee at hand.

“Nothing,” Jenny answered quickly, and went back to her search.

“I actually have a question about Friday's test,” Nancy continued, oblivious to her teacher's disinterest in talking to her. “And the interaction between 'And' and 'Or' functions... um, what are you doing?”

Jenny had found her candle, as well as straight pin. She pricked her finger, dripping blood over the wick.

“Don't you think you should be home before dark?” she asked, carefully watching the drops of blood.

Nancy just rolled her eyes. “You've never tried studying at my house.”

Jenny glanced at the girl, to see that she'd returned to her books. Satisfied that she wouldn't be interrupted again, she took a lighter from her pocket, turned to face North, and spoke.

“Hestia, protect us.”

She lit the candle.

“Brighid, protect us.”

She took a breath, focusing her energy.

“Bisu, protect us.”

The sun dipped below the horizon.

* * *

In his jacket pockets, Giles carried a wooden cross, two stakes, and a bottle of holy water. He had a messenger bag, containing more stakes and crosses, a small axe, a crossbow, and bolts. He held a stake at the ready. But as he got out of his car and made his way through the shadowy alleyway to The Bronze, Giles did not feel prepared.

He heard a shout, and screams. Someone came barrelling around a corner and ran straight into him. She almost knocked him over, and he caught her by the shoulders to keep her from falling herself.

“Let me go! He's after us!”

“Us?”

Another scream.

He ran around the corner.

A vampire had a girl pinned to the wall, grappling with her hands as she clawed at its face.

Giles' first thought was to make use of the vampire's distraction and stake it quickly, but as he approached it seemed to sense the threat. It dropped the girl, and rushed at Giles.

He dodged out of the way, and blindly threw a punch at the vampire. After that, the fight was a blur. Giles didn't think. Somehow at the end of it he was alive, and the vampire was dust.

He noticed his knuckles were bleeding, though he didn't register any pain.

“Oh God, what was that?” the girl who had run into him cried.

Giles snapped to attention, reminded that he had two shocked teenagers to deal with.

“You need to get away from here,” he said, deciding it would take too long to explain everything.

The first girl – blond, with an artless face – muttered “Oh God,” a few more times, but didn't move.

“Look, can you drive?” he asked, trying to get her to focus.

“I can,” said the other, the would-be victim. She staggered to her feet.

Giles pulled his car key off its ring and handed it to her. “Take my car,” he said. “Get to one of your homes.”

She nodded, and turned to go.

“Wait!” Giles said. He took a cross from his bag. “Take this.”

She did, not questioning what use it would be.

“Help who you can along the way, but be careful.”

“Okay,” she agreed solemnly. She took her friend by the arm, and they left.

Giles watched them go, then turned. The Bronze was before him.

* * *

For the first few minutes of twilight, Jenny wondered if she'd miscalculated, if she should have chosen a different spot to set up protections.

Then she saw them.

A block away, a pack of what looked like people were walking up the middle of the street. As they passed under a streetlight, Jenny could see their twisted faces. In the midst of her fear, Jenny felt a spark of relief. She had guessed correctly – they were vampires.

A car tried to drive past the pack, but jerked to a halt when they refused to yield, the driver honking irately. The vampires swarmed over the car, rocking it and smashing the windows and laughing. People on the sidewalks froze, and watched from a distance.

“What the hell...” Nancy muttered, looking up from her studies.

“Nancy, come here,” Jenny said, not yet knowing what she was going to do, only that she had to do something. Nancy didn't move, transfixed by what was happening.

One of the vampires lunged towards a couple on the sidewalk. It grabbed the man and sunk its teeth into his neck. People screamed. His partner tried to pull the vampire off him, but it threw her to the ground.

“Now!” Jenny ordered.

Shocked into action, Nancy jumped over the patio wall. Jenny thrust the candle into her hands.

“Hold this. Don't let it go out,” she said.

She took a cross from her purse and ran to the couple under attack. The feeding vampire didn't notice her until she pressed the cross into its skin. It growled and clutched at its burning face, releasing the man. The woman he was with scrambled to her feet and caught him as he slumped to his knees. Jenny took him by one arm, and with a quick, “Come on,” to the woman, led them both back to the intersection, watching the vampires and brandishing the cross the whole way.

The moment they crossed into the intersection, Jenny knelt and laid the man on the ground. She took some gauze from her bag, and gave it to the woman so she could tend to her partner.

Seeing that she'd lowered her guard, a vampire rushed at them. The woman screamed. But before it could reach them, it was repulsed, as if by an invisible wall. Jenny's enchantment had worked.

She looked around. People were running, panicked, in all directions. Vampires were picking them off easily.

Jenny got to her feet, and shouted, “You'll be safe with me!”

* * *

As he got closer to the entrance of The Bronze, Giles could feel the heavy bass reverberating in his bones, as the music from within mixed with shrieks and snarls.

He'd always hated dance clubs.

There was no guard at the door, and he entered unnoticed. Inside, the music thundered in his ears, the lights flashed from blue to white to orange, and vampires were everywhere – fighting, feeding, killing. The illustrations in his books, every scene of gore and destruction etched in fine detail, were nothing compared to this.

All at once, he remembered the graveyard patrols he'd been sent on as a teen, the disco full of vampires in his twenties. He'd killed that vampire in the alley mere minutes ago. He wasn't trained for this, but he _could_ fight these things.

He took the axe from his bag.

Nearby, two boys were grappling with one of the monsters.

“Get him off of me, man!” one of them screamed.

The other tried to bludgeon the vampire with a guitar, but as he raised his makeshift weapon, he left himself open, and was shoved away.

Giles strode over, pulled the vampire off the young man, and in one clean stroke, beheaded it.

The boys scrambled for the exit, only pausing to shout at Giles, “Dude, get _out_ of there!”

Giles shook his head. “You go.” He flipped the axe in his hand –

– and was tackled into the wall, slamming his head.

For a moment there was darkness, then bright spots of light. His attacker struck him in the jaw, and he tasted blood.

He realized he was going to die.

Then the vampire exploded into dust around him.

As his vision cleared, he saw the boy with the guitar, holding the broken neck of his instrument, a stunned expression on his face.

“I can't believe that worked,” he said, sounding oddly calm.

“Can we leave now?!” the other yelled from the door.

The boy with the guitar said nothing, but his look told Giles to not be stupid. He ran for the exit. Giles followed.

* * *

As the night wore on, more people found their way to the centre of town. Up and down, the streets were littered with cars, tipped over, windows smashed, creating a haphazard sort of maze. If the gathered refugees could see someone in danger, a group of ten or fifteen went out with Jenny's cross, ganged up on the vampire, and dragged the victim back to the safety of the intersection. Eventually, the vampires broke the street lamps, so it was impossible to see very far beyond the protected circle. Sirens sounded in the distance, but never any nearer.

By midnight, there were easily two hundred people seeking sanctuary there. They came to Jenny with their questions. _Why was this happening? What did the monsters want?_ Jenny couldn't answer. She only told them what she knew: there were vampires, and everyone would be safe if they stayed where they were.

She didn't add, “As long as the enchantment holds out.” She didn't let on that she was afraid. And she didn't ask if anyone else noticed what she had – that with every frightened civilian that was chased their way, the vampires stayed as well, lurking in the shadows, stalking along the rooftops, waiting. Waiting for something Jenny couldn't imagine.

Despite her lack of answers, people still came with their questions, and when they got to be too much Jenny closed her eyes and bowed her head over the candle. Then she was left alone, murmuring, “Bisu, protect us.”

* * *

Once they were a safe distance from The Bronze, Giles handed the young man with the guitar a cross, told him and his friend to go to the closest house, and parted ways with them.

He'd been reckless, he knew. And it was for the best that he survive the night. But abandoning The Bronze still weighed on him. He told himself that it was not the time for introspection, and instead chased after every sign of distress he could find.

After a couple of hours, Giles had given away all his extra crosses, seen the same expression of shock on a dozen different faces, and fought for his life several more times. He was now relying on repelling vampires, rather than fighting, but he found that shoving a cross in one's face did not always have the desired effect.

Over the course of the night, Giles managed to work his way downtown.

Main St. was a wreck, with abandoned cars strewn across the road like toys, and broken street lamps leaving storefronts and alleyways in deep shadow. One of the cars was on fire. Down the street, not far from the theatre, there appeared to be a mass of people gathered in the open.

Concerned, Giles edged closer.

He heard a growl behind him. He spun around, holding out his cross. The vampire snarled and flinched, but kept advancing on him slowly. Giles kept his eyes fixed on the demon, and inched backwards. Suddenly another vampire lunged at him from behind an overturned car. He ran.

A few yards from the intersection, Giles looked over his shoulder. He wasn't being followed. He stopped, confused. He stared into the darkened street, and there was nothing. The vampires were gone.

He turned around, and stepped into the pool of artificial light illuminating the intersection.

There were over a hundred people gathered there, maybe two. They were standing around, talking in hushed voices; or huddled on the ground, clutching their knees to their chest, with a distant look in their eyes; or curled up trying to sleep. Some were bruised, ragged, even bleeding; others were just scared. There were couples holding each other, friends in tight-packed circles, parents cradling their children, all just... there.

A couple was sitting on the ground, the man holding gauze to his neck, the woman stroking his hair soothingly.

“What is this?” Giles asked.

“You should talk to Jenny,” the woman said. She glanced around, and pointed. “I think she's over there. With the candle.”

Giles wove his way through the crowd with mounting curiosity.

When he saw Jenny Calendar, he cursed under his breath. _As if things couldn't get any worse._

She was talking to someone that Giles recognized as a student, a rather intense girl with curly hair, one of the few who wasn't a total stranger to the library.

“I can do this,” the student insisted, grasping a pillar candle tightly.

“Then you need to say it right,” Ms. Calendar explained. “Brighid, protect us.”

“Bridge-heed –“

Giles recognized the name of the Celtic god. He didn't know whether he was more surprised that Ms. Calendar knew something about the supernatural, or that she was clever enough to use a blessing for the home to guard against vampires. Very clever, if he was being honest.

He walked closer.

“Brighid,” Ms. Calendar repeated.

“Bridget?”

Ms. Calendar paused and shut her eyes. “Could you please give me that?”

Reluctantly, the student relinquished the candle.

“Thank you.” She turned, and saw Giles. “Oh, for –” She rolled her eyes, and rubbed her brow with her free hand.

“A pleasure, as always,” Giles remarked dryly.

She sighed. “Okay, um, vampires are real, the intersection is enchanted, so as long as you stay here you'll be safe.” She eyed him contemptuously, and added, “Unfortunately. Are we done?”

Giles glared at her indignantly. “No, we are _not_.”

They were interrupted by a chorus of shrieks and gasps.

At the edge of the circle, a vampire had climbed atop the roof of a car, and was surveying the crowd like a wolf over a herd of sheep. He was utterly inhuman, his mouth stained with the blood of a millennia of victims. The Master Vampire.

His lip curled in a gruesome smirk, and he spoke, with a voice like syrupy poison.

“Aw... all this, for me?”

 


	5. Four

Jenny's first instinct was to shrink away from the Master, like everyone else, who moved as one body to the far side of the circle. But she remembered that she was the one who told them that they'd be safe, and stood her ground.

“We're protected here,” she said, hoping her voice didn't shake.

“That's sweet,” the Master said. “You think your little prayers will save y–”

He was stopped by an arrow flying at his chest. In the blink of an eye he caught it. Both he and Jenny turned to its source.

She gawked in surprise. Out of everyone, Giles was still at her side. He held a crossbow, aimed at the Master.

The Master snapped the arrow in half. All around the intersection, vampires were creeping out of the shadows. Giles reloaded his weapon.

“There is _nothing_ that will save you,” the Master snarled.

From among the vampires, a man, dressed in black, came forward. “There's me.”

“Angelus,” the Master purred. He turned to address the interloper, seemingly unbothered by his arrival.

Jenny started at the name. This was him. Angel. The one she'd been sent to watch. The scourge of Europe, who'd killed so many, and tormented her family. Her hands began to tremble, with anger and fear.

He looked like just a man. But she knew he'd never been what he seemed.

The Master continued, “Why don't you stop these games. Come back the fold, little lamb. Come home.”

“Darla already tried that on me,” he answered evenly. “Didn't work out well for her.”

The Master tensed, his fingers curling into a fist.

Jenny watched, fascinated and confused, as a host of vampires closed in on Angel.

Angel looked around. “Are you a tired old man now, sending lackeys to do your dirty work? Why don't you come down from your throne and face me yourself?”

“Hm, let me think... _No_. Luke!”

A massive vampire with a jackal grin lumbered towards Angel. Angel dodged the first punch, and landed one hard enough to send Luke staggering backwards. Then two more vampires jumped him.

The crowd was deathly silent as they watched the fight, Angel taking on two, three, four vampires at a time. For every one he staked, another took its place, driving him steadily towards the edge of the intersection. The Master prowled back and forth along the roof of the car. As no one was paying attention to him, Giles picked off vampires around the perimeter until they learned to take cover. Then he took aim at the knot of vampires around Angel.

“Wait!” Jenny shouted, and she wasn't sure if it was because she was afraid that Giles would hurt Angel, or afraid that he would help him.

Angel's back hit the border of the enchanted area, and he could move no further.

Giles lowered his crossbow, as if he'd only just pieced together what Angel was.

With nowhere to go, Angel turned around, his true face visible to all for a split second. Then it melted away into an expression of human desperation.

His eyes landed on Jenny, and for a moment they held each others' gaze, and she was terrified – that he knew who she was; of what was going to happen to him, to all of them; of what it meant to give a vampire a soul.

Luke clubbed Angel on the back of the head, and he dropped. Other vampires swarmed around him, and in a storm of fists and feet, beat him down.

“Dammit,” Jenny heard Giles mutter. He was aiming at the vampires, but huddled as they were around their opponent, he didn't have a clear shot at any of their hearts.

Jenny heard a choked sob behind her, but didn't turn. She was watching Angel, hunched in on himself, becoming increasingly bloodied.

She had no sense of how long it was before the Master said, in a bored tone, “I think that's enough. Now, where were we?”

Even then, she watched as Angel was dragged away, and didn't turn her attention back to the Master until she felt a jolt run through her.

His eyes were focused, his jaw set. His arm was outstretched, fingers splayed, air rippling around them.

He was breaking down the enchantment.

* * *

Ms. Calendar shut her eyes and began furiously reciting the names of pagan goddesses.

There was a swell of panicked shouts and cries from the crowd. Ms. Calendar's brow creased in concentration.

Giles checked his bag. He only had a handful of bolts left. He'd lost the axe back at The Bronze. He still had holy water, but against that number of vampires it was all but useless.

He turned to the civilians.

“Now listen!” he called to them, and they were silent. “If the protection comes down, your best bet is to find some wood for stakes. If you have a lighter, create as much fire as you can. Beheading –”

The air around them quivered. A man in a two-piece suit and dress shoes fled into the darkened street, away from the Master. Almost immediately, he was seized by vampires.

Giles swore and shoved his way through the crowd, shot one vampire, and ran at the other with his cross. He yanked the man, trembling but mostly unharmed, back into the circle.

“ _Until_ the protection falls, stay where you are!” he ordered.

The air rippled again.

He turned back to Ms. Calendar, who was still chanting furiously. She was trying as hard as she could, but he could see it wasn't going to be enough. The blessing had been clever, but too simple.

He racked his brain for anything that could help. Spells that he no longer remembered, invocations shoved to the back of his mind for too long, locked away and gathering dust. The only spell he still knew by heart was the one he wanted to forget most.

Giles watched Ms. Calendar helplessly, praying she was strong enough.

The candle went out. The air around them shattered. People screamed. The Master leapt down from the car –

And was thrown back by a shock wave, along with every other vampire there.

Giles turned to Ms. Calendar in awe, but she looked just as surprised as he was.

From the cowering throng, a teenage girl stepped forward. She was blond, with cold, sharp eyes.

“You're not getting these people tonight,” she said.

The Master, who had been knocked into the car, steadied himself and straightened his jacket. “Well, well, a _real_ witch. Don't think I can't break you too.”

“Do you want to find out?” she replied calmly.

They stared each other down, the girl cold and blank, the Master calculating.

Finally, the Master backed away. Not afraid, but casually, with one last shrewd look at the witch. As he went, the rest of the vampires followed.

Giles took a deep breath. He found he felt less relieved than he'd have liked.

When they were gone, the student Ms. Calendar had been arguing with earlier asked, “Is it over?”

“They're likely still out there,” Giles said.

“Stay till sunrise,” the witch said. She sauntered over to the Espresso Pump and perched on the patio wall.

Most people sat on the asphalt. Some tried to sleep. Some cried. Giles paced around the intersection, crossbow loaded. At one point, he saw Ms. Calendar try to talk to the witch, but when all the girl did was glare, she backed off.

Giles considered talking to Ms. Calendar himself. Maybe they would have some level of camaraderie now. And if they didn't, even the prospect of arguing with her was reassuring in its normalcy. But like most people there, she looked distant and preoccupied. And Giles suddenly realized that he was very tired.

Everyone, alone, waited for daybreak.


	6. Five

_7 March 1997_

_Much has happened since my initial assessment of Sunnydale and its propensity for demonic activity._

_The Slayer has been called elsewhere. The Council tells me that they are re-evaluating the situation, and they'll inform me of their decision in due course. In the meantime, a Master Vampire has risen, and with no one to stand against him, the town is utterly defenceless._

“You look like hell.”

Giles set down his pen.

“I was wondering if you'd turn up,” he said. He turned to face Ms. Calendar. She was leaning in the doorway to his office, looking tired but no less self-assured.

“So, about last night...”

“Yes, about that.”

“Look, it's not just that there's vampires. I think that there's something fundamentally wrong with this town –”

He looked at Ms. Calendar sharply.

His reaction was not lost on her. “... and you already know, don't you?”

Giles said nothing, but rose from his chair. He walked past Ms. Calendar, and around the circulation desk. Out in the middle of the library, it felt like he had more room to think. Giles was surprised, and more than somewhat impressed by Ms. Calendar, to be sure. But she was still an unknown quantity.

“Tell me,” she said.

“I need to know that I can trust you,” he replied, watching her appraisingly.

Ms. Calendar's eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms. “That _was_ you downtown last night, right? With the crossbow? You saw me.”

“I also saw a witch, but I'm not running to her for help.”

“Look, I had no idea about Amy. I'm just a Technopagan, okay?”

She rolled her eyes at his look of incomprehension, and walked closer to him.

“Technology plus the divine, it exists. And I'm starting to think you don't know anything; you're just some snob who thinks he's the gatekeeper for the supernatural.”

“Sunnydale is on a Hellmouth,” he retorted.

“Oh.” She sat down.

He clenched his jaw, annoyed that he'd let Ms. Calendar get under his skin. She waited attentively for him to continue. He sighed.

Giles told her everything he knew, about Sunnydale, the Hellmouth, and the Master. He left out that he was a Watcher – without a Slayer it didn't feel right to bring it up.

When he was done, Ms. Calendar was silent for a long moment.

Giles cleaned his glasses.

“Well, I asked,” she finally said.

He put his glasses back on. “Do you have any more questions?”

“Yeah,” came a voice from the door. It was the boy with the guitar from The Bronze. With him was the girl who had been with Ms. Calendar the night before. “How do we fight back?”

Giles would soon find out that their names were Oz and Nancy.

* * *

_I stand corrected. Sunnydale is not utterly defenceless, merely virtually so._

 


	7. Six

The first thing that Oz, Nancy, and Jenny decided was that after school they should go to Amy Madison for help.

Giles stayed behind in protest, and Nancy stayed with him, claiming that she didn't get along with Amy since, “She's become such an uptight over-achiever lately.”

The Madison house was tall, made of dark brick, its peaked roof reaching towards the sky, its yard skirted by black wrought iron. When Jenny rang the doorbell she almost expected to hear a shriek instead of a chime.

“Cozy,” Oz commented.

Amy answered the door, wearing jeans and a tie-dyed shirt, and none of the cool competence from the night before. Her eyes were rimmed with red.

“Oz? Um...” she hesitated, as if she didn't know who Jenny was.

“Ms. Calendar? Your computer science teacher?” Jenny supplied.

Amy nodded absently. “Of course. Can you come back later?”

“Who is it?” another voice inquired from within. A woman, presumably Amy's mother, strode into the front hall, and Amy ducked away. The woman had clearly once been very attractive, but now her face was cold and hard. When she saw Jenny she pursed her lips. “Oh, it's you.”

“We're here to talk to Amy,” Jenny told her politely.

“No. You're not,” Mrs. Madison replied. She slammed the door.

Jenny blinked in surprise.

“Does this seem weird to you?” Oz asked. “Like, more than expected?”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “You're right.”

She rang the doorbell again. And again.

Mrs. Madison wrenched the door open. “ _What?_ ”

“I don't care about whatever issues you've got going on here,” Jenny started, speaking quickly and emphatically. “But you have to realize that something evil is happening in Sunnydale. I _saw_ Amy last night, and she can –”

Mrs. Madison gave Jenny a patronizing glare. One that was eerily familiar.

“That wasn't Amy,” Jenny realized.

Suddenly Oz shoved past both the women and into the house, calling Amy's name.

“Oz!” Jenny exclaimed, afraid that he'd soon find himself in a less human form.

Mrs. Madison went after him, and after taking a second to collect herself, Jenny followed.

The kids were in the living room. Amy was curled on the couch, a rainbow patch in the midst of dark woods and heavy fabrics. She held a box of tissues in her lap. Oz stood next to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“My dad died,” Amy said plainly. “Vampires got him.”

Oz cast a wary glance at Mrs. Madison, but she was just watching the scene with aloof disinterest.

He crouched besides Amy and said softly, “Look, you don't have to stay with her. I'll talk to my folks, they'd be happy to have a daughter for a while.”

Amy's eyes widened gratefully.

Mrs. Madison scoffed. “Don't worry, if she wants to stay in this wretched town town, it's fine with me.”

“You're leaving?” Jenny asked. As soon as she did, she realized it was obvious – if Mrs. Madison was carrying on in Sunnydale she never would have given up her daughter's body. It struck Jenny how evil that was, but she was still a lesser evil, and the only one potentially strong enough to face the vampires.

“Why wouldn't I?” Mrs. Madison retorted.

“You saved all those people! You scared off the Master!”

“I was testing his strength,” she explained tersely. “That was a tactical retreat, not a rout. He's biding his time, and I don't know how strong he'll get. What I _do_ know is that vermin multiply, and when they overrun this town, no one's life is going to be worth shit.”

“So you're not even going to try to prevent it? You could save lives, you –”

“Maybe. But I'm not going to.”

“Then teach me!” Amy demanded, stunning the rest of the room into silence.

Mrs. Madison stared, dumbfounded at her daughter. Amy's eyes were wide and glittering, but her face was set and her voice was steady. She stood.

“Teach me,” she repeated.

Mrs. Madison cocked her head. She narrowed her eyes. Jenny held her breath.

Mrs. Madison smiled coldly. “Alright. I will.”


	8. Subject: Re: Re: Update from the Hellmouth

To: blackmagickat@hotmail.com  
Subject: Re: Re: Update from the Hellmouth  
Date: Friday, 21 March 1997 19:14  
From: jcalendar@sdh.edu

Hi Kat,

You're going to make me keep apologizing for scaring you with that email forever, aren't you? Again, sorry.

And yes, I'm _sure_ I'm sure it was Angel. I don't know what to think of it. Uncle Enyos says he's still suffering, so I guess there's nothing to worry about.

Oz, Nancy and Amy, those kids I told you about, they organized this thing where they patrol the streets after dark, with stakes and crosses and things. They've brought another couple of students into it too – Jonathan, who's not bad at Comp-Sci, and this football player named Larry. There's this kind of team dynamic that's developing, with Amy at the center. She's getting good at witchcraft really quickly, she's already mastered pyrokinesis. Remember when we tried that? We couldn't even light the incense.

The whole thing makes me uneasy. I wish I could give them detention, or send a letter to their parents, or something to keep them from getting involved. They're just kids.

Mr. Asshole Librarian pointed out that they're going to try to fight vampires regardless, and “it's better they do so with adult supervision than without.” He's right, I guess. We patrol with them as much as possible. I still don't like it, though.

Asshole Librarian's name is Giles, by the way. And he's not the worst once you get to know him. He's still a stuck-up Luddite, but when it comes to vampires he knows his stuff.

Good luck with the job interview, I can't wait to hear about it.

Jenny

 


	9. Seven

A few minutes after the lunch bell rang, they descended upon the library. Though Giles kept his books and newspaper clippings stacked around him at the circulation desk, he knew that the next twenty minutes were going to be utterly unproductive.

It's not that Giles wasn't fond of – at least some – of them. Or even that they didn't make themselves useful. Nancy had a detailed map of Sunnydale spread in front of her, and was charting recent vampire attacks. Oz serenely sharpened stakes for the night's patrol. Amy was practicing conjuring miniature whirlwinds in a ceremonial bowl, while Jonathan hovered attentively over her shoulder. Larry stayed out of their way, and occupied himself by leaning back in his chair at a dangerous angle and idly tossing a football in the air.

It's just that they were very much _teenagers_.

When Ms. Calendar breezed through the library doors, his heart skipped with relief at the sight of another adult.

“Looks like the gang's all here,” she said.

“Oh! Hi Ms. C!” Amy said brightly, looking up from her spell.

Suddenly neglected, her whirlwind tipped the bowl, spilling burnt herbs across the table, and blowing Nancy's map into her face, before dissipating.

“Hey!” Nancy shouted.

“Sorry,” Amy cringed.

Silently, Oz rose from the table, while Larry took advantage of the chaos to grab a brightly coloured leaflet from between Nancy's books.

“Hey!” she protested.

“What's this?” Larry asked teasingly.

“Oh!” Jonathan exclaimed eagerly, before catching himself and continuing in a more casual tone, “It's about the spring brunch.” He threw a hopeful glance at Nancy.

Larry grinned. “You fishing for a date, Nance?”

“No! I was using it for scrap paper,” Nancy retorted, grabbing the leaflet back, crumpling it, and stuffing it in her backpack. “I think the whole thing's ridiculous.”

“Yeah. Yeah, totally,” Jonathan stammered in agreement.

“I don't have a date yet,” Amy said, smiling invitingly at Larry.

Nancy rolled her eyes. Larry blanched. “Oh. Uh...”

“I'm sure you'll find someone,” Oz said kindly, as he returned with a waste basket, and swept the table clean of ashes and wood shavings.

In a bid to regain his composure, Larry suddenly shouted, “Hey, think fast!” and threw his football, hitting Jonathan in the arm.

“Ow!”

The bell rang. The children gathered their things, and in a chattering mass, left the library in peace, calling “See ya!” to the adults on their way out.

As they left, Ms. Calendar raised her eyebrows and gave Giles a knowing look. “That was...” she trailed off.

“What?” Giles asked. Their antics were irritating to be sure, but hardly worth commenting on.

“Young love on the Hellmouth?” Ms. Calendar elaborated, leaning across the circulation desk.

“Ah... I suppose they're not to be envied,” he agreed.

Ms. Calendar picked up a pen, twirling it between her fingers. “Just seems like a bad idea in general.”

“Well, even in trying situations, people attempt to find what happiness they can.”

“But that's just it. How could you really be happy, knowing that any day your partner could be murdered, or worse? With the responsibility of knowing what it would do to them if you were killed? How could you live knowing you have the chance for something good, but that it's impossible to have a normal future? And that's without all the regular emotional garbage on top of vampires and monsters.” She dropped the pen into its holder. “It does _not_ sound worth it to me.”

Giles shrugged, and nodded. Turning back to the book he'd been reading when Ms. Calendar came in, he realized that he'd lost his place on the page. He set it aside. “Would you like to get some coffee from the staff lounge? I was just about to take a break.”

“Hm?” She glanced up, blinking away a distant expression. “Oh, no thanks. I have stuff to work on. I actually just dropped by because I found a recalculation of the Lagash variation of the Mesopotamian calendar that I thought you could use.”

“Oh, that is interesting,” he said, intrigued.

“Yeah, I sent a link to your faculty email.”

Giles barely kept himself from huffing in displeasure. Ms. Calendar grinned.

“And I printed you a copy.” She pulled some papers from her bag and handed them to him.

“Thank you,” Giles said, doing his best to look disapproving, the corner of his mouth curving up nonetheless.

“You're gonna have to step into the digital age some time.”

“And I'll postpone that day for as long as possible,” he said, already examining the printouts.

She rolled her eyes fondly, and headed for the door. “Later, Rupert.”

“Ms. Calendar,” he returned.

She stopped, spun on her heel, and came back. “You know, if we're going to be doing this, you could start calling me by my first name.”

Giles looked up from the papers. He hadn't put much thought into how he addressed Ms. Calendar. But they were proper colleagues now. Potentially friends. “Jenny, then.”

Jenny beamed at him. “There you go.”

For the rest of the day, Giles would catch himself in odd moments, smiling or humming to himself, without knowing why.


	10. 1 April 1997

_1 April 1997_

_It's been four weeks since the Harvest, and I believe that Sunnydale is reaching a new equilibrium._

_The mortality rate has fallen since the immediate aftermath, due largely to citizens taking measures to protect themselves: avoiding staying out past dark, and if they must, traveling in groups and carrying crosses._

_Of course, everyone is reacting differently. Principal Flutie has developed an obsession with raising student morale. Ambulances are no longer sent out at night. There's an extremely nihilistic doctor at the hospital who's become rather too free with his prescriptions. The Mayor has turned into something of a rallying figure, going so far as to make defiant statements on the television against the Master. Perhaps too defiant, as more than a few seem to be encouraged to carry on with their lives as normal._

_Last night's patrol was eventful. We saved three people, using the methods I described before. The children have started referring to it as “cross-and-grab”. They're working quite well together. And Ms. Calendar is now only occasionally infuriating._

_Amy Madison killed a vampire using magic for the first time. In general, she's becoming more aggressive in her methods. I wish I could say that this was an unequivocally positive development. However, her mother's influence – and, to be honest, her mother's very presence in Sunnydale – continues to concern me._

_The vampire she killed was wearing a ring inscribed with symbols, which has led my research to the Order of Aurelius. I believe he may have been in town for a very specific and troubling purpose._

_Unfortunately, this means that the rest of my research has been put on hold. Staying abreast of the supernatural goings-on in a town like Sunnydale is overwhelming, even with Ms. Calendar's assistance. I cannot forget that whatever balance we've reached is a fragile one, and a single misstep could send the town, and all its residents, to its doom._

_Though we are managing as best we can, we are no substitute for a well-trained slayer. I believe I've made this clear to the Council. I've also noted to them how useful any resources would be. Of course they will act, the only question is when. I continue to await their response._

 


	11. Eight

It was a Wednesday morning, and Giles paced anxiously around the library, stopping every now and then to double-check his research, waiting for Jenny and the kids to arrive. He was considering going in search of them, when they began trailing in at a quarter to nine.

He greeted them with a brisk, “If everyone could have a seat, we have something to discuss.”

“Good morning to you too,” Oz said dryly. Nonetheless, they did as requested.

“Now, if you remember that vampire from two nights ago...” Giles started, only to trail off when he realized there were two of their number missing. “Where are Jenny and Nancy?”

“Here!” Jenny called as she walked in, Nancy at her side.

“I was just telling Ms. Calendar that based on my charts, I've come up with a new strategy for patrolling, that –”

“Yes, well, that can wait,” Giles interrupted.

Nancy gave him an annoyed scowl and sat down.

Suspiciously eyeing him up and down, Jenny asked,“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“What?” It took Giles a second to process the change of topic. He waved off the question, “I'm fine. There's something important I've discovered, a prophecy –”

“How do you know it's important?” Jenny asked.

“Excuse me?”

Jenny shrugged and leaned against the banister next to the table. “How do you know it's important? There's a dozen different prophecies that could apply to any given day. Most of them have been misinterpreted or mistranslated at least once over. Then there's the ones that were just plain made up by a bunch of self-important old guys.”

Giles gawked at her. “It's from the Chronicle of Samnium, a text which has been repeatedly validated over the course of centuries, which I cross-referenced with contemporary interpretations, and verified against the calendar that  _you_ – th-this isn't what we should be talking about now!” he stammered, with growing exasperation. “The Order of Aurelius will come to the Master and bring him the Anointed, a great ally. He will rise from the ashes of the Five on the evening of the thousandth day after the Advent of Septus.”

“I always forget, does Septus have thirty or thirty-one days?” Larry asked with a smirk. Amy did a poor job of suppressing a smile.

“It's tonight,” Giles retorted.

Everyone quickly became less good-humoured.

“Interesting time-management strategy,” Oz remarked.

“I do have to sort through dozens of prophesies,” Giles replied. “Most mistranslated, some made-up.”

Oz nodded. “Point taken.”

“So what do we do?” Jonathan asked.

Giles took a breath. He was finally able to get to the point. “We have a chance to get one step ahead of the Master, and stop the Anointed One from rising.”

“Or we could not do that.”

Giles stared at Jenny incredulously.

She folded her arms and explained, “You're saying we should go out and stop... what, exactly? The Anointed 'rising from the ashes of the five'? What does that even mean?”

“What's clear is that a powerful vampire will rise tonight –”

“Where? How?”

“So you suggest we do nothing?”

“Ms. Calendar's right,” Amy said, interrupting their mounting argument with a measured voice. “If this prophecy is as legit as you say it is, it'll happen. So we let it. And then stop the Anointed One before he gets to the Master.”

“How we gonna do that?” Larry asked.

“I'll ask my mom,” Amy replied casually. She slung her backpack over her shoulder, and headed for class.

The bell rang.

“Does anyone else think she's getting creepier?” Nancy said with a frown.

“Come on,” Oz said. “Where would we be without Amy?”

Giles watched the children go, a gnawing frustration in his chest. The ongoing stand-off between good and evil couldn't continue forever, sooner or later one side would have to strike. And he'd rather it was them.

He thought about the bottle of scotch that he'd taken to keeping under his desk in his office. However, Jenny was still there, booting up the computer.

“Don't you have class or some-such?” Giles asked, furiously cleaning his glasses.

“Study hall. The kids won't even miss me.” She tapped at the keyboard. “I'm gonna see if I can find any references to 'the ashes of the five', try to clear up that mystery.”

“Really?” he remarked, straining to keep his tone pleasant.

“Yes...” Jenny looked up from the monitor, confused.

Giles began clearing his research materials from the study table. “I would have thought you'd had enough of second-guessing me for one day.”

“You're not seriously pissed off that I'm right, are you?”

He leafed through some old manuscripts, making sure they were in order. “I wouldn't say that winning the assent of one grossly over-powered teenager counts as being 'right'.”

“I am though, and you know it!” She stood, pushing her chair back with a screech. “And if you're so worried about Amy, you could _try_ talking to her.” 

“I'm not her parent, nor are you,” he shot back. “If you'd like to challenge her actual mother, feel free.”

“Maybe I will.”

Giles dropped his books on the table, along with any pretence of civility. “You would, just to be contrary.”

She gaped at him. “You're the one being contrary!”

“Um...”

They turned to see Jonathan hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

“I left my science text book...” Without looking at either of them, Jonathan scurried to the table, grabbed his book, and then rushed back to the exit. Before leaving, he turned and declared hurriedly, “I don't like it when you guys fight!” then ran back to class.

Alone again, Giles glanced at Jenny, who was fuming silently and gathering her things. He didn't know what had made him so angry in the first place.

“I'm done here,” she said.

“Jenny...” Giles started, but she didn't respond. She marched towards the exit, and then she was gone.


	12. Nine

The thing was, Nancy was right about Amy.

Jenny wasn't surprised that Amy had thrown herself into learning magic. It helped her cope with losing her father, and what was happening to Sunnydale. Facing her mother on her own terms likely also helped her recover from what she'd put her through. And soon, Amy seemed genuinely happy, and proud of what she was learning, of being able to help her friends and her hometown.

But lately her smiles were shallower, her eyes more distant and gleaming, especially after a spell.

After school, Jenny paid a visit to Catherine Madison.

When she answered the door, Mrs. Madison invited Jenny in, but didn't move past the front hall. Jenny stood awkwardly, pinned by her cool stare.

Jenny tamped down her nervousness, planted her feet, and tilted her chin up. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about Amy.”

“What about her?” she asked with an indifferent and humourless smile.

“She's progressing very quickly in her study of witchcraft. And don't get me wrong, it's great, and she's done a lot of good. But I – or, Mr. Giles and I – we're just concerned that maybe she's progressing a bit _too_ quickly.” 

Jenny watched Mrs. Madison for a reaction. She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, and said nothing. She let the silence stretch on.

Jenny continued, “Not that I'd question your abilities as a teacher, of course. It's just that it's a lot of power for a teenager to take on –”

“Do you have any children, Ms. Calendar?”

Jenny blinked, taken off guard. “No.”

“Then you can't know what it's like. The sacrifice, the pain, all for a sad disappointment of a human being.” There was a venom in Mrs. Madison's voice that seemed to sink through Jenny's skin and into her bones. Then she smiled, and it was different from any expression Jenny had seen on her face before. It was genuine. “Then all of a sudden, she's good at something. Really, _really_ good. You look at her, and can see that it wasn't for nothing. That she can accomplish everything you wanted, and more.”

Mrs. Madison's sincerity was just as chilling as her disdain. Jenny was considering how to reply when she heard footsteps on the staircase.

“Ms. Calendar? What are you doing here?” Amy asked.

Jenny shrugged. “Just a friendly visit.”

“She was telling me how impressed she is with your craft,” Mrs. Madison elaborated.

Amy turned to her teacher with a bashful grin. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Jenny floundered for a second while both women looked at her expectantly. “I mean, you could teach me a few things, I'm sure.”

Amy tucked her hair behind her ear. “That'd be neat, teaching the teacher,” she mused.

“I know you'd learn a lot,” Mrs. Madison said pointedly.

Amy looked surprised that her mother was taking the suggestion seriously, then turned to Jenny with a hopeful smile. “Um, maybe we can talk about it tomorrow?”

Jenny wanted to tell her to forget it, but between Amy's eagerness and Mrs. Madison's piercing glare, all she could do was nod and say, “Cool.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Amy said, and headed towards the kitchen.

“Amy?” Mrs. Madison said. The girl stopped. Mrs. Madison turned to face her daughter. “I'm proud of you.”

Amy beamed. She ducked her head shyly and continued on her way.

Mrs. Madison waited until she was our of earshot before turning back to Jenny. “You have no idea what I do for this town,” she said, taking a menacing step towards her. “I _let_ my daughter help you. Remember that.”


	13. Subject: Day From Hell

To:  blackmagickat@hotmail.com   
Subject: Day from Hell  
Date: Wednesday, 2 April 1997 20:06  
From:  jcalendar@sdh.edu

Hey Kat,

Guess who just screwed up? It's a long story, but I managed to get myself roped into learning magic from Amy. Don't make any jokes about me needing the help. Her mother is insane, and I don't want to get wrapped up with that family any more than I already am.

I dunno, maybe it'll be a good thing. We need all the help we can get. Some bigwig vampire is supposed to rise tonight, and we need to do something to keep him from joining up with the Master. I don't know what yet. Asshole Librarian was in a snit about it, being his usual asshole self. All I'm-always-right-because-I'm-British, and don't-question-the-books-the-books-are-sacred. One of these days I'm going to throw his books in his face, see how much he loves them then. He's just such a jerk sometimes. You know, he doesn't even use email? Of all the things he could be superstitious about, of everything we've seen that he could be frightened of, he chooses technology. And then today he goes off on me for undermining him, or some garbage like that, I don't even know what his problem is. And I don't really care. He's a jerk.

Tell Uncle Enyos I'll write to him when there's actually something to report.

Yours in eternal pissed-off-itude,

Jenny


	14. 3 April 1997

_3 April 1997_

_It seems that “the ashes of the five” simply referred to the deaths of five ordinary civilians, in what appeared to be a highway accident last night. I called the mortuaries where the victims were taken, to warn them of the danger, but they were quite adamant that they are well aware of the threat posed by vampires, and any suspicious bodies are immediately incinerated. Of course, the Order of Aurelius would take care to disguise their work._

_We shall have to see to it ourselves that the Order does not collect the Anointed One. Unfortunately, the victims were sent to different locations, so our party will have to split up. I suggested that we could make an educated guess as to who the likely candidate was, but Ms. Calendar insisted on caution, and I didn't put up an argument._

_Although she refused to elaborate, Amy insists that she has a way to ensure that no vampires escape. I don't doubt that she does, but her reticence concerns me, much more than her skill level._

_Tonight will be a test of all of our abilities._


	15. Ten

The Sunny Meadows Funeral Home was a charming, pastoral building; a single story of rosy stone, with high windows set like welcoming eyes around the door. Unfortunately for Jenny, Oz, and Larry, all those windows were securely locked.

“See if you can find a rock, or something,” Jenny suggested. Oz began searching the gardens around the building. Larry tested the door.

“Pretty sure they lock up at night,” Jenny commented.

“Yep,” Larry agreed.

He backed up, and landed a kick squarely besides the lockset. The door popped open.

“Yeah!” Larry cheered, pumping his fist. “Never doubt the Larrinator! That's what two hundred pounds of pure muscle can do!”

“We're all very impressed,” Oz assured him as he sauntered over.

Larry deflated at the comment, and Jenny was pretty sure she saw him blush before he ducked into the funeral home. She and Oz went in after him. 

* * *

“Dammit,” Giles spat, when he, Nancy, Jonathan, and Amy reached the cold room of the Restfield Funeral Home, to find that three of the cabinets were already open and empty.

“They must still be here, though,” Nancy said. “The doors were locked when we came in.”

“So we're going to search a dark, abandoned funeral home for vampires?” Jonathan said, voice trembling. “Okay...”

“Someone should keep watch in the back, so they don't escape,” Nancy said.

“I don't like any of you being on your own,” Giles protested.

“I'll do it,” Amy said. “I'll be fine,” she told Giles reassuringly, pre-empting any argument.

Giles sighed and pursed his lips. “Very well. But be careful.”

As Amy returned to the back entrance, Giles nodded at the other two.

“Come on.”

* * *

Larry whistled while he kept watch at the cold room door, and Jenny and Oz scanned the cabinets for the names of the victims.

“Sure you wanna be doing that, Larry?” Oz asked.

“Why not? It's not like I'm gonna wake anyone up.”

Oz shrugged and went back to his search.

“Clancey Jones, Clancey Jones,” Jenny muttered to herself, “There you are!”

She drew a stake from her pocket, opened the drawer, and pulled out the shelf. Clancey Jones blinked, his bewilderment comically out of place on his demonic face.

“Sorry, Mr. Bus Driver. End of the line.” Jenny plunged the stake through his heart, and he shattered into dust.

Larry snorted appreciatively. “Nice.”

“Guys?” Oz said. “I'm not finding any Andrew Borba here.”

“That's dumb,” Larry said. “Where else would he be?”

Andrew Borba tackled Larry to the ground. 

* * *

The office of the funeral director was empty, along with the two previous rooms they'd checked, and the suspense was putting Giles on edge. He began questioning his decision to leave Amy alone.

“So, how'd you learn to pick locks, anyways?” Nancy asked, as they made their way down the darkened hall.

“Experience,” Giles answered curtly.

“Think you could teach me?”

Giles turned to Nancy with a finger on his lips. She frowned at him. He ticked his head towards the chapel at the end of the hallway. A shadowy figure was moving around inside, its silhouette highlighted by the street lamps shining through stained glass.

Giles whispered, “We have it outnumbered, as well as the advantage of surprise. Now –”

With a wild battle cry, Jonathan tore down the hallway and barrelled straight into the vampire. Nancy chased after him. Cursing, Giles followed.

Jonathan had managed to knock the vampire on its back, and was kneeling on its chest, clawing at its eyes. The vampire flailed blindly, trying to pull Jonathans hands away.

“Get out of the way, get out of the way!” Nancy cried as she rushed down the aisle, drawing her stake.

Jonathan leapt off the vampire, and it began to clamber to its feet.

“No! Hold it down!” Nancy shouted.

Giles had taken aim with his crossbow, but then Jonathan threw all his weight at the vampire, pinning it with his body and clamping its jaw shut with his hands.

“I still need to stake it!” Nancy said.

Somehow, Jonathan managed to squirm out of Nancy's way, ending up with his knee on the vampire's neck, and grappling with its thrashing arms.

Nancy crouched down, batting both sets of hands away, and staked the vampire.

With a sigh that was equal parts relief and exasperation, Giles walked over and helped Nancy to her feet. “Perhaps we should start some sort of training regimen,” he said. Nancy's face lit up, so he refrained from adding, “Because that was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen.”

Coughing dust, Jonathan stood, and pointed behind them.

Another vampire stood in the doorway. Before either of the teenagers could make a move, Giles fired his crossbow. The vampire leapt out of the way, behind a pew. He could hear it skittering down the row.

“Get the door,” he said. “We're finishing this here.”

* * *

Startled, Jenny froze. Borba loomed over Larry, hands tightening around his throat.

Oz darted forward, cross in hand. The vampire snarled and cringed away.

“Why does He burn me?” Jenny heard him say.

Suddenly, Borba lashed out, knocking the cross from Oz's hand and springing at the boy. Oz tried to scramble away, but Borba seized him by the front of his shirt, and clamped a massive hand around his neck.

Jenny scanned the room for some kind of weapon, something heavy enough to have an impact. There were autopsy instruments, a fire extinguisher, the cross...

Jenny took her own cross from her pocket, and strode towards the vampire, holding it before her. Again Borba flinched away.

“He burns because he's rejected you,” Jenny said. Borba's eyes widened in terror. “God has condemned you.”

He roared, and dropped Oz. Jenny pressed closer with the cross, and he ran.

Still gasping for air, Larry jumped to his feet and chased the vampire down the hall. He lept at him, grabbing his legs in a tackle. Oz ran after them, dropped to his knees and slid across the floor, and drove a stake through the vampire's heart.

“Hey, Larry?” Oz gasped, as they sat on the ground, catching their breath.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe next time you keep watch, you could try focusing on the watching part?”

“Good work anyways,” Jenny said as she joined them.

The boys just nodded, and helped each other to their feet.

“We should probably go check on the others,” she added. 

* * *

Giles tracked the sound of the vampire's movements as it snuck around the perimeter of the chapel, but it stayed low to the ground, preventing Giles from taking another shot.

“What do we do?” Jonathan asked.

“You could run at it again,” Nancy suggested.

Giles shook his head. “It's stalling,” he said, keeping his weapon trained at the spot where he knew the vampire was, watching for any sign of vulnerability. “It's trying to keep us here as long as possible.”

Nancy nodded thoughtfully. She disappeared from Giles' field of vision for a few seconds. He heard some clattering, and the flick of a lighter. When she returned she was holding one of the memorial oil candles from the alcove at the front of the chapel.

She tossed it over the pews, and it shattered against the wall, throwing out a shower of burning oil. With a yelp, the vampire jumped to its feet. The next moment, Giles had shot it through the heart.

“Good thinking,” Giles told her.

Nancy smiled proudly as she walked over and stomped out the fire, kicking some dust on the flames.

* * *

Amy heard sounds of scuffling from upstairs, and reminded herself that it didn't mean bad news. This was a fighting mission, not a drive-vampires-off-with-crosses-and-run-away-with-their-victims mission. If she stopped hearing anything, then she'd have reason to worry.

Then she heard a different kind of noise, coming from the front viewing parlour. A sigh.

“Hello?” She called softly. No answer.

She looked around. She was certain she was the only one on the first floor. It wouldn't hurt to leave her post for a few seconds.

The viewing parlour was a large room with a high ceiling, its wood paneled walls lined with dusty houseplants and inoffensive landscapes. Amy could imagine what it looked like during the day: chairs that were now stacked off to the side, lining the floor and filled with mourners; a coffin occupying the space in front of the wide bay windows overlooking the cemetery – a space that was now only filled by moonlight and a small boy.

“What are you doing here?” Amy asked with concern.

“Waiting,” the boy said. “They're coming for me.”

Amy's eyes widened with realization.

Her mother's instructions played back in her head. She stood with her feet apart, planted firmly on the ground. She closed her eyes, bowed her head, and drew a breath, drawing in energy from the earth along with it. “I look on mine enemy –”

Two figures crashed through the windows, startling her from her concentration. They lunged at Amy. Barely thinking, she seized two splinters from the broken window frame with her mind, and flung them into the vampires' hearts. They crumbled to dust, and she resumed her stance.

A vampire grabbed her from behind.


	16. Eleven

They heard the crash as they were leaving the chapel.

“Amy!” Nancy yelled, and raced down the stairs, Giles and Jonathan close behind.

She threw herself at Amy's attacker, using her momentum to push the vampire off her friend, and pin it to the wall. The vampire flung her aside, but then Jonathan was there with a stake, and the vampire was dust.

“Are you alright?” Giles asked.

Amy didn't answer, as two more vampires appeared from the hallway. Giles fired on one, then fumbled to reload.

“Lentesco!” Amy shouted, and the charging vampire slowed to a crawl.

Another was climbing through the window; Amy levitated a scrap of wood through its heart.

Giles had just managed to nock his bolt when the frozen vampire broke free of its enchantment. Behind it, more vampires appeared. The first one came at him, and he rammed the stock of his weapon into its face. The vampire returned with a punch to his head.

Dazed and spinning, he heard Amy shout, “There's too many of them!”

The vampire shoved Giles against the wall. Reflexively, he raised his weapon to brace against his attacker, but he wasn't strong enough. He could smell the monster's fetid breath as its fangs neared his throat.

“Hey!” someone shouted. Jenny.

The vampire turned, and she threw holy water in its face. As it clawed at its burning skin, she drew a stake. But she was too slow. The vampire knocked the stake from her hand and grabbed Jenny by the front of her leather jacket, lifting her off the ground.

The stake landed next to Giles. Before the vampire could react, he picked it up, and drove it through the vampire's back, into its heart.

Jenny yelped and staggered as she was dropped back on her feet. Giles caught her by the shoulders, and steadied her. He felt a jolt of relief that she was safe. Their eyes met.

“They're getting away!” Nancy yelled.

Giles blinked, remembering that they were in the midst of a battle. He noticed that Jenny's hand was on his chest, at about the same time that she seemed to notice the same thing. Simultaneously, they dropped their arms and backed away from each other.

The room was a wreck, but everyone was alive, and there were no more vampires – except for two, one of them a child, weaving their way through the tombstones away from the funeral home. 

* * *

Giles cursed and searched the floor for his crossbow, but Amy was already stepping up to the shattered window.

She stood, peacefully, and bowed her head.

“I look on mine enemies,” she said, and straightened. “I look on mine enemies, and they are as ashes.” She drew a breath, as if drawing fire from the centre of the earth, and raised her arms. “I look on mine enemies, and they are consumed.”

Jenny had seen Amy's fire spells before, but this was different. There was no ball of flames whirling through the air, nothing catching alight. The two vampires just stopped, and hunched over. They howled, the cry of the child piercing in the night. Their skin began to crack, and then blacken, and then crumble away. And then they were gone.

When Amy turned to her friends, it was as if there were embers glowing in her eyes.

“We did it!” she cheered.

The kids exchanged glances, various mixtures of pain and relief on their faces.

Nancy picked her way through the broken glass to stand before Amy. She rested a hand on her shoulder. “You did it,” she said, with genuine admiration.

Amy took Nancy's hand in her own, and insisted, “ _We_ did.”

“Indeed,” Giles said. “The Anointed One, and much of the Order of Aurelius, is dead. You should congratulate yourselves,” he added absentmindedly, as if he was just realizing that they'd all made it through the night alive.

It was just beginning to sink in for Jenny as well. They'd won. The prophecy was averted. She felt an incredible lightness in her soul, as if she could float away at any moment.

Amy grinned at Giles' kudos, and looked around at her friends. “Whatd'ya say, guys? Party at my place?”

For a long moment, no one responded. Larry rolled his shoulders and winced. Jonathan tested his weight on an injured foot. Nancy let go of Amy's hand, and lightly touched a cut on her forehead, checking for blood.

Oz shrugged. “I'm down.”

With nods and agreement all around, the kids filed out of the funeral home.

Giles lagged behind. “Jenny...”

“Mm hm?” she replied, slowing her pace to match his, and deciding that whatever he said, she wasn't going to let it spoil her good mood.

“I owe you an apology.”

Jenny was surprised enough to stop in her tracks, just outside the front doors that Larry had kicked in. She carefully maintained a blank expression, and turned to Giles expectantly.

“I value your contributions,” he continued, “and I shouldn't have been cross with you yesterday.”

Jenny bit her lip to keep from looking too self-satisfied.

“I'm sorry,” Giles concluded.

Jenny cast her eyes downward, as if she was considering whether or not to forgive him. But she couldn't keep the smile from spreading across her face any longer. “Apology accepted.” She glanced up, to see that Giles was smiling too.

“Hey, you wanna join?” Amy called from Oz's van.

Jenny traded a dubious look with Giles.

“You crazy kids try to have fun without us,” she answered.

With a wave, they drove off.

Giles and Jenny continued on to his car.

“Anyways, I know you were stressed out the other day,” Jenny granted. “It's not like any of us have had a break lately.”

Giles huffed. “Most certainly not.”

“I think Amy's got the right idea,” she said.

Giles looked at her curiously.

“We deserve a celebration.”


	17. Twelve

Jenny's apartment was small, but she took great pride in it. Particularly in the sound system – a state-of-the-art stereo, framed by tall speakers, with other auxiliary speakers scattered around the room. The visual weight of the black stereo was balanced by a stark white couch and armchair, a glass coffee table between them. Adorning the walls, as if floating on glass shelves, were pagan totems, souvenirs, and old circuit boards.

As soon as they walked in the door, Jenny picked up a remote, and turned the stereo on. She smiled as the sound of humming synthesizers softly filled the air.

Jenny hung up her jacket, kicked off her shoes, and sauntered over to the adjoining kitchenette and opened her fridge.

“I have beer, and I have wine,” she said.

“Wine, please,” Giles said, leaning against the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“I'm warning you, it's the cheap stuff.”

He cracked a smile.

“I don't mind,” he said.

Jenny took a bottle of wine and a beer out of the fridge. She poured the wine into a mug, and slid it across the kitchen counter to Giles, silently daring him to comment about it. He visibly bit his tongue. She smirked, and tilted her bottle to him.

“Cheers,” she said.

He raised his mug. “Cheers.”

They both drank, and Jenny noticed the growing bruise on Giles' cheek.

“Ooh, actually, do you want some ice?”

He peered at her over his glasses.

She rolled her eyes and reached across the counter, running a finger down the side of his face. He winced.

“For that,” she clarified.

Still looking stung, he answered, “Yes, please.”

* * *

After about twenty minutes, and a few more sips of wine, Giles' face stopped stinging. Around the same time, a loud buzzing erupted from the speakers.

Jenny, who had taken her hair down and was reclining in an armchair, beer in hand, in jeans and a t-shirt and painted toenails, seemed unsurprised by the auditory assault.

“What are we even listening to?” he asked disdainfully

“Techno.”

He'd never heard of such a genre, but its name certainly fit. “Of course.”

Jenny snorted and took a sip of her beer. “You are such a snob.”

“Excuse me for preferring music with instruments,” he replied acidly.

“Synthesizers are instruments,” she retorted.

“Instruments played by people.”

“People use synthesizers!”

Giles set the ice bag down on the counter and walked over to her sound system.

When he was unable to find anything like album covers or even an indication of where she kept her music, he asked, “Do you have _anything_ else in your collection?”

“It's all in the CD mixer.”

“Of course.”

“What, you'd rather be listening to vinyl?”

“It sounds better!” he insisted indignantly.

Jenny threw her head back in exasperation, but she was smiling. “The very definition of snob!”

Giles wondered how, even when they were getting along, Jenny managed to get under his skin and get him worked up out of all proportion. 

* * *

Jenny went to her fridge to open another bottle of wine, and grabbed a fourth beer for herself while she was at it. She was happily riding a buzz that she didn't want to end. For the first time in ages she felt like a normal person. She and Rupert weren't even talking about supernatural stuff, but were trading stories about coworkers from past jobs and laughing.

“Is that Shakti?” he asked suddenly, rising from the couch to inspect one of the artifacts along the wall.

“That didn't last long,” Jenny said as she uncorked the bottle.

“What?”

“Yes,” she said.

Rupert picked up the statuette to inspect it, and she hurried back to the living room, setting their bottles on the coffee table.

“And it's very old,” she quickly added, sucking air between her teeth.

“A couple of thousand years at least,” he said, sounding impressed. He set it back on its shelf, and she exhaled. “Where did you even –”

“That's a story for another day,” she said, returning to the couch and her beer.

Rupert poured himself some wine, and commented “It is nice to know that you don't entirely devalue the past.”

“I never said that I did,” Jenny countered.

“Really?” he said skeptically.

“You need something to build on,” she explained, taking a drink. “New forms present old content differently, better, more equally. Old content is re-imagined. Or only the best of it survives. Or it's cut up and pieced back together into something entirely different. New sounds,” she said with a nod to her stereo, “new images, new ideas. The new world is born out of the old.” She smiled broadly. “Change is life, Rupert.”

He looked at her, and blinked, and said nothing; as if what she'd said had an impact. Which was quite satisfying. As much as Jenny disagreed with him sometimes – most of the time – talking with Rupert like this lit something in her brain.

He continued to puzzle over her. Jenny realized that she was staring at him too. She sipped her beer.

“Anyways, you're awfully versed in all this stuff for a high school librarian.”

Rupert huffed. “I'm not a –”

He hesitated. Jenny looked at him askance, and wondered what he'd stopped himself from saying.

“I guess I always thought of the occult as my real calling,” he concluded.

“How'd you get into it anyways?” Jenny asked, realizing that she never had before.

“I have something of a family history,” Rupert said with a shrug and a sip of wine.

There was something in his tone that said there was a lot more behind his answer “That sounds interesting,” Jenny prompted.

“It's not,” he said.

She was curious, but knew better than to pry. Instead, she leaned forward, with her forearms on her knees and said, “Family, huh? Can't live with 'em, wouldn't be born without 'em.”

Rupert laughed.

“If you don't ask about mine, I won't ask about yours,” she suggested.

“Agreed.” 

* * *

“Shh, shh, this part...”

Jenny was sitting on the floor, eyes closed, swaying blissfully to the music, apparently hearing something worthwhile that Giles did not. He didn't understand her tastes, but at least when she enjoyed something, it was wholeheartedly.

When whatever he was supposed to be listening for was over, she lay back with a sigh, which was itself rather musical.

“I've got to go dancing some time,” she said.

Giles noticed that his bottle of wine was almost empty. “Good luck with that,” he said, pouring the last of it in his mug.

Glaring, Jenny sat up, apparently upset at the unwelcome reminder of the current state of Sunnydale's only dance club. She took the mug from Giles' hand and gulped back the wine herself.

* * *

Jenny turned up the volume. Only partially because she loved the track, but mostly because she felt that Rupert had gone too long without being irritated.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Must you?”

She considered the possibility that she shouldn't be so entertained by getting a reaction out of him, and rejected it. She smirked. “The future is here, Rupert. Deal with it.”

“So you keep telling me, yet I keep resisting.” He set his glasses on the coffee table and took a drink of the beer he'd switched to when the wine ran out.

Jenny perched on the arm of the couch. “What's your problem, anyways? With all of it? Technology, computers, everything?”

“I don't trust computers.”

“I noticed.”

“They don't smell,” he slurred.

Jenny let out a tipsy laugh. “What?”

“Smell is the most visceral sense, connected to memory, a-and emotion. And-and knowledge, should be... an anchor,” he seized on the word emphatically, his eyes sparking.

Through the haze of alcohol, Jenny thought that they were nice eyes. She liked them. She liked a lot of things about him.

He continued, “Something tangible that you can touch, and smell. Like books.”

Jenny slid off the arm of the couch to sit next to Rupert. She took the beer bottle from his hand and put it next to his glasses.

He hardly noticed as he elaborated, “Computers, everything is all ones and zeros, it's ephemeral, there's nothing –”

She kissed him.

He didn't push her away, or jump off the couch, and that was a good sign. She was pretty sure the kiss wasn't a mistake. She pulled back and waited for a reaction.

He kissed her back.

* * *

Jenny's music, as much as he hated to admit it, had a way of getting into his head. The incessant beats worked their way into his blood. Or maybe it was Jenny herself. Her lips, her hands, her wit, her passion. All of it, all of her, piercing him like music.

Which was to say, it was very nice to be kissing her. But there was something nagging at the back of his mind, something else he felt he should be listening to.

She placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the couch, and straddled his lap. Then her lips were on his again, and she was rocking her hips with the music. She was entrancing, and beautiful, and... important.

Taking her by the shoulders, Giles pushed her gently away. She looked at him inquisitively. The bass pounded in his head, and in his blood, along with alcohol, and it felt so good to be kissing her.

“Jenny, what...” _What are we doing? What does this mean?_ “We-we should...” _Stop. Think._

“We should just have fun. For once,” She said simply, and was still. Waiting for him.

Just fun. Isn't that what they both needed?

The beat swelled around them, and then broke. He kissed her hard.

* * *

 _Of course he'd wear a suit to hunt vampires_ , Jenny thought as she pushed Rupert's jacket off his shoulders.

She undid his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and ran her fingers along his neck. He sighed, and tipped her sideways, so that she lay on the couch. His hands slid under the hem of her shirt, smooth and warm, over her stomach and ribs, grazing her breasts through her bra. He dipped his head to nibble her earlobe and kiss her neck, and she felt a shiver travel down her spine to the pit of her stomach.

They stayed on the couch for a while, kissing and touching, the music as their guide. She wrapped her legs around his, and ground against him, feeling him stiffen in his pants.

The track changed, to one that started with quiet taps and chirps, but that Jenny knew would build into an aggressively driving rhythm.

“Rupert?”

He muttered her name in return and kissed her. She pushed lightly on his shoulder, and he pulled back.

“Bedroom?” she suggested.

“Oh... yes,” he agreed.

Biting back a smile, Jenny slid out from under him and led the way.

* * *

Distracted as he was, Giles didn't pick up on too many details of the bedroom. He could tell that it was completely different from the rest of the apartment, with soft lighting and rich colours.

Then Jenny grabbed his suspenders, dragged him into the room, turned him around and pushed him backwards until his legs hit the bed. He sat down heavily. She climbed onto his lap and pulled his suspenders off his shoulders, her gaze sliding from his eyes to his lips with a gleam that punched the air from his lungs.

From the next room, a sampled voice crooned incomprehensible words. Jenny leaned back and peeled off her top. He wanted to taste her, to hold her close, but she looked at him – piercing, like music – like she knew exactly what she was doing. He hesitated.

She slowly ran her hands up his chest, as his breathing became heavier; and around his neck, his skin hot and tingling; and into his hair. She kissed him, and the music exploded in a cacophony of chords and beats, of voices and scratches and buzzes and blips, and an unforgiving bass, and he wanted more of her; but for that moment, that kiss was enough.

* * *

For the first time since the Harvest, Jenny's mind was clear. It was all just music and alcohol and sensation. Rupert's hands on her back, unfastening her bra; his hair between her fingers; his mouth on her breasts, hot and insistent.

She unbuttoned his shirt, and he pulled it off impatiently. She undid his pants, and slid off his lap so he could get them off. Standing, she took off her jeans and underwear. She rolled her shoulders to the music.

Rupert sat on the edge of the bed, took her by the wrist and pulled her over to stand in front of him. She let him. He kissed her ribs, her stomach, her hips, as his fingers caressed and stroked between her legs, his mouth inching lower. A satisfying heat spread out from her core, and Jenny thought that Rupert was probably capable of pulling her to pieces using his hands alone. But that could wait for another night.

Jenny pushed him away, and climbed on the bed. She tilted her chin towards the headboard, and smiled when Rupert obeyed the gesture, moving so his back was against the pillows.

The beat from the speakers was pulsing and constant. Jenny crawled forward, pushing on Rupert's chest until he was lying on his back, and hung over him, their bodies almost touching, their lips almost meeting. 

* * *

Giles felt Jenny's breath on his lips, and cupped her face to pull her into a kiss, but the next moment her hand was on his cock. He breathed out a curse and twisted his fingers in her hair. His hips bucked into her grip as she stroked, and she grazed his neck with her lips, breathing against his skin, making him shiver.

His hand left her hair to trace along the nape of her neck and shoulder. His other hand travelled between her legs, his fingers pressed against her clit.

Jenny reared back, and leaned over, reaching for her nightstand. As she opened the condom he continued teasing her clit, enjoying watching her squirm and sigh.

She rolled the condom over his cock. He propped himself up on his elbows, but she pushed him back again. He started run his hands up her thighs, but to his surprise she took his hands from her body and pinned them over his head. She held them there with one hand over his wrists, as she sank onto his cock, squeezing and shifting slightly.

He moaned. He wanted to touch her, but she didn't release his wrists, so he didn't break her grasp.

Jenny lowered her face to his, rocking her hips. “Can you be good?” she asked.

From the next room the music throbbed, melody stretched thin and straining over a beat that raced like a heart.

Giles nodded.

Jenny let go of his wrists. He didn't move his hands. She smiled approvingly, and his pulse caught up to the music.

Jenny leaned over him, bracing herself on one arm, raking her nails lightly over his chest. She bore down on him, grinding rhythmically, and sucked bruises into his neck. He moaned, and raised his hips to meet hers, but didn't move his hands.

“Why don't you show me how good you can be?” she asked, her voice like dripping honey.

“Yes?”

He could feel his heart pounding, and Jenny riding him hard, and the music in his head and his veins and in their bodies together. He already ached for release, but he could be good, he wanted to be, he wanted that smile from her, and to prove something that he couldn't quite figure out.

She whispered in his ear. “Don't come until I tell you to.” 

* * *

Rocking back and forth, Jenny brought herself closer to climax. She leaned back, running her hands over her breasts and through her hair, gasping and ecstatic, feeling unchained and glowing and alive.

And Rupert – she'd expected him to give up, or beg for her permission to come. His hips bucked, and his chest heaved, he clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, but he might as well have been tied down for real. Watching him like that sent a thrill through her, straight to her core.

Jenny slowed, and a whine escaped from his throat. She was still.

“Rupert?”

He opened his eyes.

She caressed her lips, licking the tips of her fingers, her other hand sliding up her thigh. As Rupert watched, she lowered one hand to her breast, teasing her nipple and squeezing, while the other began circling her clit. In thirty seconds she climaxed, sharp and snapping, clenching around his cock. He grit his teeth, arched his back, and dug his nails into his palms, but he didn't come.

As Jenny came down from her orgasm, his brow furrowed and he gasped a string of expletives between ragged breaths. She leaned down and kissed him, and his mouth met hers hungrily.

“You've done so well,” she told him, starting to rock gently again.

He smiled at the praise.

The track changed, beat chugging like a locomotive.

“Do you think you can last a little while longer?”

He took a deep breath and nodded. 

* * *

Jenny built up a steady rhythm, rolling with the beat, gasping and moaning and squeezing. All Giles could do was close his eyes and focus on breathing, until she brushed her lips against his and whispered, “Now.”

He flipped her onto her back, and she yelped in surprise. But the next second she dragged him into a bruising kiss. He thrust into her hard, mouthing at her neck and shoulders, as her fingers curled in his hair and clutched at his back.

He reared back, as electronic blips and chords layered over drum tracks, heavier and faster. He ran his hands down her thighs, and propped her legs over his shoulders, turning his head to brush his lips across her calf. She moaned and arched her back. He thumbed at her clit, making her hips jerk and buck frenetically, and her cunt clench and tremble around his cock. He picked up his pace, driving into her, moaning her name.

She came with a shout, and that's when he let go, his vision whiting out and his muscles aching.

They both fell asleep soon afterwards, music still thrumming around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I was listening to as I wrote this chapter: “Dreams” by Quench, “Papua New Guinea” by Future Sounds of London, “The Age of Love” by Age of Love, the Watch Out For Stella mix, “Ab-Chic” by Nexus 6, “Access” by DJ Misjah and DJ Tim.


	18. Thirteen

Giles woke up with a throbbing tightness around his forehead, but it was nothing he wasn't used to.

Jenny was still asleep. He thought about waking her up – it was, after all, a school day – but decided to give her a little more time to rest. He collected his clothes from the floor, really looking around the room for the first time. He noticed that Jenny kept her computer next to her bed, and smiled.

He retrieved his glasses from the living room. The stereo was still on, its display screen flashing, but it was silent. Giles showered, and dressed. Inspecting himself in the mirror, he wondered if he had time to go home and shave. And if he didn't, he at least needed to borrow a toothbrush.

When he left the bathroom, he found Jenny sitting at the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee between her hands, her arms stretched out before her, her face resting on the cool marble surface.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Suddenly he worried that she would be regretful over more than how much she drank last night. They had both been very inebriated, but they'd also both fallen asleep happy, from what he could tell, so he wasn't certain that he had cause to worry. But he was afraid of there being awkwardness between them.

“Not so loud please,” Jenny mumbled.

“You really should be drinking water,” he suggested gently.

She sat up, squinting against the kitchen lights, and tightened her hold on her coffee. “I know what I'm doing,” she insisted.

Giles smirked. Of course she did.

“Do you have any eggs?” he asked, turning to open the refrigerator. He could see immediately that she did not, in fact, have eggs. She had a single remaining beer, a bottle of mustard, and a suspiciously mottled jar of mayonnaise.

“Why?” she asked, seemingly genuinely bewildered.

“The idea of breakfast had crossed my mind,” Giles explained. He considered checking the date on the mayonnaise, possibly throwing it out, but then thought better of touching the thing. He closed the fridge.

Jenny pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. “You're not going to start acting like you're my boyfriend, are you?”

Giles' concern flared up again. “I believe I expressed a desire for food, not a declaration of romantic intentions,” he remarked dryly. And then added, more seriously, “I do remember what you said last night, about having fun.”

“So I did say that. Good.” Jenny took a sip of her coffee. “I just don't want to give you any ideas about...” she waved her hand between them.

He sighed dramatically. “It will be a struggle, but I shall endeavour to keep myself from falling hopelessly in love with you.”

Jenny slumped forward, resting her head on the counter again. “Ugh, you're such an asshole,” she grumbled.

His fears were allayed. 

* * *

There was a motel a few blocks from The Bronze, on the border between what was indisputably vampire territory, and where the citizens of Sunnydale still attempted to live their lives. It had always been seedy and run-down, but after The Harvest it was abandoned by its owner. Squatters moved in, and those for whom personal safety had never been guaranteed.

That weekend, vampires took it over.

On Monday, Jenny taught her freshman class how to program asterisks to blink different colours, when she wanted to be weaving protection charms, or hacking police files on vampire activity, or doing _anything_ useful.

Another student was missing from roll call.

On her lunch break, she went to the library. The kids' break was just ending, and she waved at them as they left.

Rupert was cloistered in his office, mouthing words to himself as he read a page from one text, then another, scribbling notes to himself in between.

Jenny stood in the doorway, arms folded, fingers tapping on her elbows. “How's your day been?”

Rupert glanced up briefly, then went back to what he was doing. “Well, um, stressful.”

She nodded. “Yeah, me too. D'you wanna have sex?”

He froze, then looked at her sharply.

When he didn't answer, she shrugged. “If you don't, that's fine.”

Rupert hesitated, then said carefully, “I didn't say that.”

“Good.” Jenny locked the door behind her.


	19. 11 April 1997

_11 April 1997_

_I've decided that if the children are going to be serious about patrolling, they should at least have some simple training, for defence. Oz can learn hand-to-hand, though Jonathan should probably focus on ranged weapons, for obvious reasons. Nancy is strategic and quick on her feet, I suspect she'd do well with a sword. I'm tempted to assign Larry to learn Tai Chi, and refuse to teach him anything else until he masters it. I'll discuss the matter with them individually on Monday._

_Of course, none of this would be necessary if a Slayer were here. I've informed the Council that although we dispatched the Anointed One, the Master is still a threat, and vampire attacks occur every day, unabated. They've asked for my patience. But I've told them what kind of assistance we require; they only need give the order. They know what it's like to be in the field. They must act soon. I'm sure they will._

_Amy is teaching Ms. Calendar some witchcraft. By all accounts, it's slow but worthwhile progress. I've wondered recently if I ought to delve into the practice again myself, but with two witches around I shan't have to._

_Ms. Calendar's presence has been invaluable. Our relationship is less fraught these days, which I'm grateful for. I can only imagine how much more difficult it would be to face all this without her._


	20. Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: WE WON

To: blackmagickat@hotmail.com  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: WE WON  
Date: Saturday, 12 April 1997 09:31  
From: jcalendar@sdh.edu  
  


Hi Kat,

To answer your questions: a) Shut up. b) Really good, actually. c) We're not dating. We're on a freaking Hellmouth.

Speaking of which... I don't know why I thought things would let up after killing the Anointed One. We stopped things from getting too much worse, but they haven't gotten better. Since March I've lost nine students from my class alone. I don't think it's even possible to get accurate numbers for the town. The mayor sent a tactical team to the Bronze the other day, and none of them came back. It's like, we fought so hard, just to keep from slipping backwards. I'm tired a lot. I think Giles drinks at work, but if it keeps him going I'm not going to say anything. He's taken on so much. We all have.

I levitated a pencil the other day. How's that for a bit of good news? I'm actually learning stuff. And now that I'm getting to know her better, Amy's a pretty cool kid. Intense, and definitely still has issues, and I'm not about to have dinner at her place. But she cares a lot.

With all the magic stuff, I've been thinking about the power that our clan used to have. And about Angel. Not anything specifically, just thinking.

I've also been thinking about what you told me, and in my opinion, you should quit. It doesn't matter what the job is, it's stressing you out and destroying your health. You're wasting your life there. You have the freedom to leave, so leave.

Later,

Jenny


	21. Fourteen

Oz cruised the streets of Sunnydale in his van, criss-crossing from one end of town to the other, while Giles kept his eyes open for any signs of a disturbance, any indication of demonic activity. Which was a difficult task, given that Nancy was constantly disturbing his concentration.

“We could do this more efficiently if we split up,” she insisted.

“So you've said,” he grumbled.

“Well, don't you think it would be better to go out and actually kill vampires, instead of just doing cross-and-grabs?”

“Also more dangerous,” Giles pointed out for what he was certain was the forty-seventh time.

“Amy and Ms. Calendar are on their own!” Nancy complained.

“Amy can incinerate vampires with her mind!”

“I've been training. We all have!” she countered.

Giles looked over his shoulder at the other occupants of the van. Larry and Jonathan didn't meet his eyes, remaining frustratingly aloof. “The purpose of which was to defend yourselves, not pick fights with demons,” he said pointedly.

“But every day there's more!” Nancy argued, with more than her normal forcefulness. “Every day there's more of them and less of us. What's going to happen if we don't make a dent?” She craned her neck to catch Oz's eye in the rear-view. “Oz, you said you wanted to fight back. When are we actually going to do that?”

“Fine,” Giles snapped, exasperated with Nancy and put out by how right she was.

Oz glanced at him, and stopped the van.

“Nancy, go with Larry,” Giles instructed. “Watch each other's backs.”

“Yeah, Nance, don't go staking me by accident,” Larry joked as the two of them jumped out the back of the van.

“Ugh, why are you always such a loser?” she sniped.

“You're the loser!” he retorted.

“Jonathan, stay here,” Giles ordered, as the boy started to follow the other two. With a grimace, he sat back down.

Giles watched Nancy and Larry in the wing mirror until they turned the corner.

“For what it's worth, I think it's the right call,” Oz said.

Giles took off his glasses and began to clean them. “It doesn't mean I have to like it.”

* * *

Jenny sat cross-legged on a ledger marker, breathing deeply, and trying to feel a spiritual connection with the grass.

“Magic is about connection and control,” Amy explained.

“Right.”

“Everything has its own energy, and it's all connected. Once you feel that connection, you can control it.”

Jenny nodded.

“Concentrate. You can do it.”

When the grass in front of her began to smoke, Jenny almost jumped up in surprise. But Amy's voice told her to stay focused. There was a spark. The edges of the blades glowed, and then crumbled into ash.

Jenny felt a thrill run through her, like a shock. She let out a delighted laugh. “I never did that before!”

Amy smiled knowingly. “Feels good, doesn't it?”

“Yeah.” It felt like – _connection and control_. Like power and possibility.

Jenny heard a snarl, and looked up.

A vampire vaulted over a tombstone and charged at them. Amy spun around and magically flung a stake into its heart.

“And here I thought levitating scraps of wood was boring,” Jenny remarked.

“Want me to let you get the next one?” Amy suggested.

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn't put our lives in my hands just yet.”

* * *

As it neared midnight, Jenny and Amy made their way to the cemetery gate where they'd agreed to meet the others.

Jenny considered her question for a few minutes before asking, in a deliberately casual tone, “So, is this what it's like with your mom?”

Amy was thoughtful for a long moment before answering, “She's a great teacher.”

“I still don't know how you can live with her, after what she did to you,” Jenny said.

“It was hard,” Amy said plainly as the reached the gate. She sat on the stone wall, and Jenny leaned next to her. She continued, “But remember the day I met you? When Oz said I could stay with him? I didn't even know Oz – I'd seen him around all my life, but I didn't _know_ him. And he was just... ready to help me.” She looked around. “And the whole town, it's part of my life like that. People who've just always been there, and are maybe kind and generous and deserve to be saved.” She turned to Jenny and shrugged. “And there was something I could do to save them.”

Jenny smiled at her, gently, and with genuine admiration. “I'm glad you did.”

“Thanks.” Amy swung her legs and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Things are different with my mom now, too. We understand each other,” she said, a distant look passing briefly over her face before she looked back at Jenny. “I've never had that before.”

However reconciled Amy seemed to be with her mother, Jenny couldn't forget what Catherine Madison had told her, what the nature of her affection for her daughter was. But she could hardly come out and say that.

“So, Oz, huh?” Jenny said, giving Amy a significant look.

Amy scrunched her nose. “He's great, just not like that.” A dreamy smile spread across her face. “But –”

“Larry, Nancy!” Jenny called, seeing the two teenagers approaching. “Where're the others?”

“We split up to patrol,” Nancy explained excitedly.

“We got one too!” Larry gushed, “Nancy sliced its head clean off, so cool!”

Nancy smiled. “Hey, you did good too. I'm proud of ya, big guy.”

She punched him in the arm. Larry ducked his head and smiled. Jenny tried to remember when she'd seen the two of them get along, ever.

Jenny paced along the wall, watching the road for Oz's van. The kids chatted for a while about classes, then about Principal Flutie's latest brunch celebration. The longer they waited, the more tense and strained the conversation became, until Nancy said what they were all thinking.

“Shouldn't they be here by now?”

Jenny's pager buzzed. There was a single word on its display: _HOSPITAL_.

* * *

When they got to Sunnydale General, they found Jonathan sitting morose and alone in the waiting room. He leapt to his feet when he saw them.

“We're fine,” he said quickly. “We're all fine. But we couldn't save her.”

The kids crowded around Jonathan while Jenny looked about. She saw Giles, a little way down the hall, talking to a doctor. He was covered in blood.

“What happened?” Jenny asked as she approached, not caring if she was interrupting.

Giles directed a muttered “Thank you,” to the doctor, who nodded and went on his way.

“It's not mine,” Giles said, catching the horrified look on Jenny's face as she eyed his shirt.

She waited for an answer to her question.

He took off his glasses, and pulled out his handkerchief. Seeing blood on it, he put his glasses back on. “There was a vampire, with a-a-a claw for a hand,” he began. “Chasing a woman. We drove it off, but, uh, before we did, it...” Giles raised his hand, as if to make a slashing gesture, but then thought better of it. “She was a-alive, but bleeding badly. We put her in the van, and drove her here. I-I tried to help her, but...”

He stared at a spot on the floor. Jenny touched his arm lightly, and he blinked back to attention.

“Oz knew her,” he went on. “He's minded her children. He's on the phone with her family now.”

“Rupert... I'm sorry.”

“It's nothing we haven't seen before. I-I just... I thought we could save her.” He shrugged. “It wasn't enough.


	22. 2 May 1997

_2 May 1997_

_In its wisdom, the Council has decided that Sunnydale is a lost cause. I argued as best I could, but they have no intention of squandering resources on the town. It's a write-off._

_Which is to say, this is no longer a Watcher's Diary. For I am no longer a Watcher._


	23. Fifteen

On the day the government quarantined Sunnydale Jenny didn't leave her room. She spent hours searching for news reports, only finding short items about a strange outbreak in a California town, some new disease that made its victims aggressive and gave them hallucinations.

In the local news, the mayor came out in a fury, saying he wouldn't stand for it, that he'd fight for Sunnydale, that it was a strong town, with strong citizens.

Jenny hated all of them, every politician, every journalist. And for the first time, she didn't just fear the Master, but hated him as well, for turning her and every other living person within Sunnydale's borders into animals in a pen. Her thoughts turned to vengeance, and curses.

The sun was setting when there was a knock on her door. Jenny was still wearing the over-sized t-shirt and shorts that she'd slept in, and her hair was tied on top of her head in a messy bun, but she went to see who it was.

It was Giles.

“I tried calling,” he said when she opened the door. He was unshaven, wearing a tan leather jacket over a button-down shirt and jeans. Jenny couldn't think of when she'd seen him dressed without a tie, much less in anything but a suit.

“I was online,” she explained, stepping aside to let him in. “But I'm surprised you don't keep carrier pigeons.”

He let out an odd sort of giggle. “You're always so...” he trailed off, looking at her with frightfully sad affection.

Jenny realized he was drunk. The only reason she hadn't noticed immediately was that there was something about his eyes – they were brighter than she'd seen when he'd been drinking before, sharp and direct.

“Are you okay?” she asked, worried.

“No,” he said plainly.

“Sit down,” she said, and started towards the kitchen.

“Jenny?”

She turned.

He approached her slowly. With a gentle caress he brushed some loose strands of hair from her face. She knew he was going to kiss her. He did, soft and tender.

After that first time, their sex life had consisted mainly of the two of them hurriedly getting each other off in Rupert's office between classes. It was a release, a way to diffuse stress. But the way he kissed her now promised a different kind of escape, to somewhere that Jenny thought she wanted to be.

But he wasn't okay. She wasn't either, but there was something especially off about him. “Rupert...”

“Forget it,” he said. “Can we? Just forget everything?”

He looked at her with eyes that were too clear. She wanted to kiss him, as if his lips could make her drunk too.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered.

She hesitated. “What if all I want is for you to fall asleep next to me?”

He smiled, so sadly, and traced her lips with his fingers. He nodded.

He took off his jacket and shoes and followed her into the bedroom. She put his glasses on the nightstand, and they knelt on the bed. He kissed her temple, her jaw, her shoulder. She pulled him down to lie on the bed, and he circled her with his arms. She lay with her head on his chest and he smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head.

Jenny hated how afraid they were.

* * *

When Giles woke up it was dark outside. Jenny was at her computer. It looked like she had been writing an email, but at the moment she was just staring at some candles on her window sill, lighting them with one breath, then extinguishing them with the next.

He sat up too quickly, and his head throbbed. He groaned.

Jenny spun in her chair. “How you feeling?”

“I've been worse,” he said, pressing a palm to his forehead. “What time is it?”

“One -thirty. Want some aspirin?” she asked, eyeing him appraisingly.

“I'm fine,” he said

“You're more honest when you're drunk.”

There was nothing accusatory in her tone, but still Giles felt abashed. He sighed and shut his eyes. “I don't know what we're going to do.”

Jenny cast her eyes downward, then turned back to her computer. She started typing. The tapping keys and humming computer were muffled by the silence around them, the glow of the monitor bracketed by the darkened window.

Giles got up and went to Jenny's fridge. There was a half-eaten container of Chinese take-out, the same old jar of mayonnaise, and a pair of six-packs, from which only one beer had been taken. Giles took a second.

He went back to the bedroom. Jenny was shutting down her computer. He leaned in the doorway.

“I'm going to bed,” she said, eyes flicking to the bottle in his hand.

“I'm not planning to get drunk,” he clarified. And he wasn't. He just had to ease some of the weight that was pressing on his chest.

“Not on my beer, anyways,” she remarked.

Giles quirked a smile.

Jenny climbed under the covers. “Are you staying up for a while?”

He didn't answer. He stared out the window, and its blackness seemed to be creeping, straining at its frame.

“Have you heard of the Slayer?”

* * *

“What?”

“Into every generation a Slayer is born, one with the strength and skill to stand against the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness.”

Jenny's heart leapt. But Rupert's face was distant and impassive. This wasn't good news.

He continued, “Every Slayer has a Watcher, to train and guide her.”

Suddenly Rupert made sense. His collection of occult texts, his weapons, his knowledge of combat training. “That's you.”

He turned to her with a wry smirk. “And a whole network of scholars, specialists and strategists around the world. With vast libraries, ancient sacred weapons, and immense funds. Generations of families have dedicated themselves to building the Watcher's Council, sacrificed for it. To be the institutional memory of the Slayer.” He scoffed. “To be at the forefront of the battle against evil,” he finished bitterly, taking a swig of beer.

It wasn't difficult to see where this was leading. “They're not going to help us, are they?”

Rupert examined his bottle. “No, they are not.”

“Sit with me,” Jenny said.

He did. She turned on the bedside lamp, creating a small pool of warmth in the dark room, and drew her knees up to her chest.

“You were really counting on them, weren't you?”

He shook his head. “I know what they're like. Bureaucratic and self-aggrandizing. On some level I knew what they'd decide all along. But... I hoped.” He downed the rest of his beer. “It doesn't matter. Better to be without false hope.”

Jenny didn't know what to say. He was right. She considered telling him that they'd made it this far without the Watcher's Council, but that was a dubious achievement at best. Something about that night, about the strain they were under and the shadows, made her say, almost without thinking, “I'm Romani.”

Rupert blinked at her in surprise.

“Kalderash.” She explained, “I made up Jenny Calendar when I was nine. The name my parents gave me is Janna.” Her lips curled up wistfully. “My mom always hated 'Jenny'.”

She glanced at Rupert. He was listening attentively, lips slightly parted, brow furrowed.

She continued, “Two hundred and some years ago, a vampire named Angelus killed one of our daughters, a princess. As punishment, we cursed him with a soul, so that he'd feel the burden of every life he'd ever taken.” She added quickly, “We don't have that kind of power anymore, the spell's been lost. But we make sure the curse remains unbroken.”

“Angelus, I've heard that name...”

“The first night after the Harvest,” Jenny confirmed. “The one who challenged the Master.”

“That's why you're here,” Rupert said softly.

Jenny nodded. “I write to my uncle to tell him if there's any news of Angel, and he tells me that the curse is still strong. Angel's still suffering. I'm doing my job.” She sighed. “And the one vampire who could have helped us is in the hands of the Master.”

“There's nothing you could have done,” he reassured her.

“That's not true. The protection was for a household. I could have invited him in.”

Rupert stared. She waited for him to condemn her, but he didn't.

“It didn't occur to me until later, when it was over,” she explained. “But maybe if I hadn't been so suspicious, or if my first instinct hadn't been to hate him...”

“It's not your fault,” he repeated.

“I want it to be,” she said earnestly. “I want something to be in my hands, to be responsible for something, instead of just waiting for the next hit.”

“I know.”

Jenny felt tears, hot in her eyes. She rubbed her forehead with her palm. “Do you still want to kiss me, like before?”

He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

“Do you still want me to tell you what to do?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

Jenny tugged the tie from her hair, and took off her shirt and shorts. She lay back, pulled Rupert on top of her, and put his hands where she wanted them. She let him take her apart with his fingers and his mouth until she was trembling and full of stars. Then she undressed him, and rode him roughly, swallowing his curses with kisses.


	24. Sixteen

After the final bell, the school cleared out quickly, leaving Amy and Jenny with the courtyard to themselves. The air was still, and shadows crept along the ground and up the walls with the setting sun.

Jenny drew a circle in chalk on the pavement, intersected with lines, ringed with glyphs. She set an apple inside it.

“It's about will power,” Amy explained. “The symbols help, but in the end, they're just symbols. If you have the will to protect the apple, they aren't necessary.”

Jenny concentrated.

Amy pointed at the apple. It exploded.

“You're not going to get it right away,” she said.

“I know,” Jenny replied, wiping bits of pulverized fruit off her shoe. “But that'd be a neat trick to use on vampires.”

“Doesn't work on sentient beings,” Amy said as she searched through her backpack, pulling out another apple. “Catch!”

Jenny replaced the target, and focused.

Amy pointed. The air around the circle rippled, and the apple wobbled, but it remained intact.

Surprised and thrilled, Jenny whirled around, to see Amy frowning and staring into space.

Jenny deflated. “You don't have to go easy on me.”

Amy glanced at her. “I know. I didn't mean to. I'm just distracted, I guess.”

“Yeah? What's up?” Jenny sat on the stone bench next to Amy.

“Larry came out to me today,” she explained.

Jenny's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow.”

Amy sighed. “He said he cares about me, but not how I wanted him to. I told him I'll always be his friend, and that I'm happy for him.”

“Well, that's good,” Jenny said. “I'm glad you guys have each other.”

“Yeah...” Amy fidgeted with the strap of her backpack. “It's just that, with all I've done, you'd think I could get one thing I want.”

Jenny's blood ran cold. She heard more than a little of Catherine Madison in Amy's voice. “Come on, Amy. You don't mean that,” she said without conviction.

Amy smiled shallowly and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Nah, you're right.”

The sun dipped lower, and the light in the courtyard changed from gold to gray.

Jonathan came jogging towards them. “Hey, ready to head out?”

Amy rose from the bench, and joined him.

“I'm going to stay in the library,” Jenny told them. “I've got a thing to work on.”

“Okay, see ya,” Amy said, with one last glance over her shoulder.

She pointed at the apple. It blew up, leaving hardly a splatter on the pavement.

* * *

Nancy and Amy passed the Wilkins family crypt for the third time, and Nancy was getting suspicious.

“So you don't think it's weird that we haven't seen any vampires at all tonight?” she asked again.

Amy shrugged dismissively. “They're animals. Who knows why they do what they do.”

“I don't think we should underestimate them,” Nancy insisted.

“Hey, you never told me what happened with your history paper?”

Nancy brightened, not caring about the change in topic. “Ms. Miller raised my mark! She said it was so good, she couldn't fully appreciate it with just one read, and...”

Amy smiled slyly.

Nancy looked at her, confused. “What? Did you already know?”

Amy batted her eyes innocently.

Nancy slumped. “You _didn't –_ Amy!” she whined.

“What? Can't I do something nice for my friend?” Amy's gaze drifted over Nancy's shoulder. “Look out!”

Nancy spun around, raising her katana, but the vampire dodged out of the way. There were a series of growls from behind Amy.

The first vampire got between Nancy and her friend, and drove her back. It rushed at her, and she stabbed, but it dodged again. She heard the other vampires exploding into dust, so she knew Amy was handling herself, but she didn't take her attention off her opponent for a second. She stepped back, putting a tombstone between herself and the vampire. She feinted left, the vampire lunged at her from the right, she pivoted and lopped off its head.

Smiling and out of breath, she glanced up at Amy, who was several yards away now.

Someone grabbed Nancy from behind. They clasped one hand around her throat, and jerked her arm back, making her drop her sword.

Amy stepped towards them with furious glare, but then Nancy's captor's hand tightened, and she choked.

“Uh uh uh,” said a familiar voice by her ear. A boy.

Amy froze.

“I didn't believe it when I heard the White Hats had a witch,” he said mockingly. “I said there's no such thing. And I gotta say, still not very impressed.”

“Let her go,” Amy commanded.

Nancy heard the squelching of flesh as the boy's face morphed into a demon's.

“I'd like to see you make me.”

* * *

“Dudes!” Larry threw his arms open proudly as he and Jonathan walked towards the cemetery gate. “Guess who had a record night for kills?”

“We ran out of stakes!” Jonathan added excitedly.

Giles and Oz exchanged a worried look.

“Yeah, same here,” Oz said, with much less gusto.

“They're getting bolder,” Giles said ominously.

The smiles faded off of Larry and Jonathan's faces.

“Well... yeah...” Larry mumbled.

“Good job finding the silver lining, though,” Oz said.

They turned into Restfield to meet Nancy and Amy.

Giles saw the scene laid out before them, like on a stage. At the other end of the cemetery, to the left, Nancy struggled in the clutches of a vampire. To the right, Amy stood, head bowed, as another vampire crawled along the roof of the crypt behind her.

Jonathan started running first. Then Oz and Larry, vaulting over tombstones, shouting for Amy to watch out. Giles ran too, and as he did, everything seemed to slow down.

Amy raised her head. He heard her, distantly, _I look on mine enemy, and he is as ashes._

Amy raised her arms.

The vampire jumped down from the crypt, landing softly. Her hair was red, like embers. She held an axe.

_I look on mine enemy –_

Nancy screamed Amy's name.


	25. Seventeen

Jenny let the library grow dark around her, entirely absorbed in her work. She ran her latest line of coding, only to see the program spit out an indecipherable jumble of text. She tried again, knowing that every mistake only brought her closer to the solution.

Giles burst through the library doors. Reflexively, Jenny saved her work and closed the window, not wanting him to see her project, remembering what he had said about false hope.

She didn't have to, because Giles didn't acknowledge her presence. He headed straight for his office, turned on the light, and rooted around briefly before finding the old blanket he kept there.

“What's going on?” Jenny asked, concerned.

He glanced in her direction, and headed for the door. “Amy's dead.”

* * *

Jenny followed Giles out of the school. She felt flushed, suddenly aware of every vessel in her head, in her arms, furiously pumping blood. Her limbs felt heavy. She thought maybe she was dreaming. “What happened?” she demanded.

Giles clenched his jaw and didn't look at her.

They reached the parking lot. Oz stood by his van, holding a cross and keeping watch. Nancy was weeping in the back while Jonathan tried to clean a wound on her neck. Larry sat dazed, tears silently streaming down his face.

Giles climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

Jenny turned to Oz. “What happened?”

“It was Xander and Willow,” he said, in an agitated voice. Jenny started at the names of her former students. “They'd planned the whole thing. We got to Nancy before they killed her too. We ran.” He stared into the middle distance, opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shut it. He blinked.

Oz climbed into the driver's seat, and turned to Jenny. “You coming?”

“Where?” she asked in a daze.

“To pick up the body.”

* * *

With no emergency services after sundown, Amy's body would have lain in the cemetery until morning. Though she didn't see Giles or the kids talk about it, Jenny knew that none of them could allow that.

They drove into the cemetery, down the lane, as close as they could get to where Amy's body lay.

Giles got out of the van. Oz and Larry followed.

Giles stopped. “Stay here,” he told them.

“No,” Larry protested.

In the back of the van, Nancy tried to get to her feet, but wobbled, and sat down again.

“You need to be careful,” Jonathan whispered to her.

Nancy buried her face in her hands. Not knowing what else to do, Jenny put an arm around her shoulders, and the girl leaned into her.

Outside, Oz told Giles, “Someone needs to watch your back.”

From her place in the van, Jenny watched the three of them. Before they got too close to the body, Rupert told the boys to stand guard. Alone, he spread the blanket on the ground, moved the body onto it, and wrapped it tightly. He carried her, and laid her gently in the back of the van.

Nancy kept her face covered by her hands, and sat trembling and choking back sobs next to Jenny. Jonathan shut his eyes. All colour drained from his skin, and tears started running down his face.

Blood seeped into the blanket from the neck. The blanket bulged around her stomach, where Giles had placed her head, as if Amy had been obscenely pregnant. Jenny swallowed down vomit.

Larry stared, dead-eyed, at the body, all the way to the Madison house.

* * *

“What...?” Jenny heard Oz say, as he pulled up outside Amy's.

Larry opened the back door, and Jenny and the kids climbed out. They stood gaping at what they saw.

The house was as dark as ever, its sharp peaks reaching upward as if they could draw blood from the night sky. But there were no windows, no doors. The face of the house was a solid wall of brick.

“She already knows,” Giles said.

Larry picked up the body from the back of the van. Giles approached him to take it, but Larry shook his head.

Solemnly, he walked up the path, and lay Amy's body on the porch, where the door had been. He stepped back, hands folded, head bowed.

A pillar of flame erupted around the body, and Larry scrambled back to the sidewalk. The fire towered over the house, screaming at the stars. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone, removing any trace of Amy along with it.

When the sun rose the next morning, the wrought iron gate was gone, the dark brick, the black peaks. There was only an empty lot, filled with litter, and waist-high grass that rippled like water when the wind blew across where the Madison house had stood.


	26. Subject: Re: Re: bad news

To: blackmagickat@hotmail.com  
Subject: Re: Re: bad news  
Date: Tuesday, 20 May 1997 08:12  
From: jcalendar@sdh.edu

 

It's worse than I though. After I emailed you I found out the the mayor's been killed. The deputy announced that there's going to be a curfew, evn though the police won't even be on the streets to enforce it. They're useless. They;re installing incinerators in all public buildings.

I keep thinking about what Amys mom said to me, that I don't know what she does for the town. Things were bad before but now i dont

I need you to send me and Orb of Thessula. Any store that sells anythign but materials for black magic shut down weeks ago. But they're still letting mail in, in armored trucks. Send it soon.

Thanks,

Jenny


	27. Eighteen

Two days after Amy was killed, Jenny walked into the library to find the kids in a stand-off with Giles.

“What's going on?” she asked.

Giles took off his glasses, and cleaned them furiously with his handkerchief. “They're insisting on patrolling tonight,” he said, glaring at Oz.

“Yep,” Oz said, standing resolutely in the middle of the floor, his classmates gathered around him.

“Can... can you at least scale things back for a while?” Giles offered. “Go back to, er, um, 'cross-and-grabs'?”

“We agreed. That's not what we're here to do,” Oz stated plainly.

Giles combed his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Guys?” Jenny interjected. “I'm not saying that you shouldn't patrol, but can you wait just one night?”

“Why?” Oz asked.

“I can tell you tomorrow,” she said.

Oz exchanged glances with the others.

“Please? Just one night.”

Nancy, still looking pale and drawn, nodded to Oz.

“One night,” he agreed.

Silently, the kids filed out of the library.

“Thank you,” Giles said after they'd gone.

“Yeah,” Jenny said dismissively. “Look, we need to talk.”

* * *

Giles leafed through the maps and tables that Jenny had spread out before him, amalgamations of Nancy's charts and months of police statistics, and his heart sank.

“The Bronze is the only centre of vampire activity, with diminishing frequency of attacks as you get further away,” Jenny explained. “In three months they haven't set up any secondary bases, not even in the cemeteries.”

“That doesn't necessarily mean anything,” Giles said, without really believing it.

“There's a few spots in town with an attack frequency of zero, completely inconsistent with their proximity to The Bronze,” she pointed out. “The mall, the theater, the Espresso Pump. There hasn't been a single attack on campus since the Master rose. Or around the Madison house.”

Giles took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed a drink.

“I went for a drive around town yesterday,” Jenny continued, sitting on the table. “I found sigils painted on the cornerstones of buildings, small and close to the ground. And have you noticed how many flowers there are this spring? Angelica, larkspur, bloodroot, calendula. There's aconite growing outside the school.”

“Catherine Madison was protecting Sunnydale after all,” he concluded. Or at least the parts of it that her teenage daughter was likely to be.

“Last night a custodian was killed while locking up the theater,” Jenny said as confirmation.

Giles could feel anxiety spiking in his chest. His eyes slid from Jenny's charts to his office. He started tapping his fingers on the table. He felt scattered.

“So we can expect things to get worse,” he said.

Jenny took a breath. “Actually, I was thinking...”

He looked at her curiously.

“If we can figure out what spells she was using, we could try to keep the protections going.”

“You mean _you_ will,” he said skeptically. Giles thought about the level of skill he'd once had. Perhaps Jenny was at that level now, but he'd never come close to Amy's ability. And Amy was a novice compared with her mother.

“Hey, if you've got better ideas...”

Giles had to admit that he didn't.

* * *

They went to Jenny's apartment to continue their discussion. Giles was grateful for the whiskey he'd decided to leave there on a previous visit. The first thing he did when they arrived was pour himself a shot and throw it back. As he felt the alcohol burning through his veins, his head cleared, and he could think again.

They talked for hours about spells and wards and charms, about herbs and sigils and moon cycles. They hunched over the coffee table as the sky grew dark outside, Jenny changing into sweat pants and a t-shirt at some point, Giles shedding layers until he was down to his shirtsleeves. They hypothesized and theorized as Giles took notes, but came to no clear conclusions except that whatever Catherine had been doing must have been very complex.

Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “There's indications of elements from a dozen different rituals and enchantments, but nothing coherent, no one spell, nothing linking them together.”

“Except force of will,” Jenny said.

He looked at her.

“Something Amy said to me,” she explained, a shadow passing briefly across her face. “All this stuff, the symbols, the plants, the invocations, they're not the important part. In the end, it was Catherine's willpower that was doing the work.”

Giles tossed his notepad on the coffee table in frustration. “Well that's bloody helpful,” he said. He picked up the second glass of whiskey he'd been nursing and finished it off. 

* * *

Jenny considered telling Rupert about the curse, and how close she was to figuring it out. Now that she knew that Catherine's work couldn't be recreated, it was the only hope she had left. But if she was wrong, she didn't want to let anyone else down.

She pressed her palm to her brow, took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. “It's getting late,” she said.

Rupert stared into his empty glass, spinning it in his fingers. He'd been drinking more lately, or more openly anyways, only showing some level of discretion when he was at school. It was making Jenny worry. She considered saying something if he poured himself another glass.

He didn't. Instead he asked, “What are we here to do?”

“What?” she asked, perplexed.

“Today, Oz said, 'That's not what we're here to do.' What are we actually trying to do? What do we think we're going to accomplish?”

It wasn't a despondent, or hopeless question. There was something coldly philosophical in Giles' tone that set Jenny on edge.

“Protect the town,” Jenny answered simply.

Giles' eyes slid up to meet hers. “By staking a handful of vampires every night? By saving people so they can be killed a month later?”

Jenny could feel her face getting hot, her head buzzing like the night Amy was killed. “What are you trying to say? We save lives. These people deserve to have someone at least _try_ to look out for them.”

“Not the way we're doing it.”

“We're all they've got!” Jenny said furiously. “There's no Slayer coming to save us –”

“Jenny –”

“– no witches, no Watchers. There's only us!”

“Jenny, you're not listening to me,” he said, in an infuriatingly measured voice.

“I'm not? Because it sounds like you're saying all this has been meaningless.”

He leaned forward, with a manic brightness in his eyes. “I'm saying that we stop focusing on survival, and start thinking about what it means to _win_.”

Jenny was stunned into silence.

Giles' gaze drifted as if he, too, was just at that moment understanding the full implications of what he'd said.

He nodded to himself, and concluded, “Taking down the Master.”

Jenny's breath caught in her throat. She almost told Rupert about the curse. She didn't want to, not yet, but he had a frightening desperation about him that she wanted to placate, a look that forced her to consider the possibility of carrying on in Sunnydale without him.

“Rupert,” she said flatly, “You've seen The Bronze. You know what it's like.”

He shook his head thoughtfully. “There must be some way.”

“Well, we don't have to think about that tonight,” she said, though it was clear that Giles was already deep in thought on the subject. “You coming to bed?”

“Not yet,” he said. He picked up his pad, turned to a new page, and began writing.

Jenny thought back to when Oz told her about how he met Giles at The Bronze. She knew he had the capacity to be idiotically brave. She supposed they all did, they had to, to be doing what they were doing. She couldn't say Giles was wrong about needing to eliminate the Master. All she could do was make sure it didn't come to a physical confrontation.

Rupert never did come to bed that night. At about four in the morning Jenny checked on him, to find him asleep on the couch, his note pad in front of him. He'd made lists of everything they knew about vampires, The Bronze, and the Master – strengths and weaknesses and possible openings for attack. The latter two were alarmingly short.

Jenny went back to work, testing algorithms, writing and re-writing code, until finally, as the sky faded from the gray of dawn to pink to the fragile blue of morning, and the rooftops and treetops outside her window were painted with yellow light, it worked.


	28. Nineteen

Jenny went to the bathroom to wash her face, splashing cold water in her eyes to clear away the tears that lingered there. She felt wrung-out, but warm, like an old dishtowel left in the sun to dry.

Rupert was still asleep on the couch. They had a couple of hours before they had to be at school, so Jenny let him rest and went about making coffee. She had half of a two day-old pizza in her fridge that she put in her oven to warm up. She must have been making more noise than she realized, because Rupert soon stirred, and sat up with a groan, stretching his neck.

“Sleep well?” Jenny remarked.

“What time is it?” was his answer.

“About six.”

“Bit early for you,” he commented.

“Not if I never went to bed.”

He shrugged drowsily.

“I was working on something,” Jenny said as casually as she could manage, rounding the counter to the living room. “Remember that curse I told you about? That restores a vampire's soul?”

Rupert rolled his shoulder and squeezed a kink in the muscle. “The one that was lost to your people?”

She nodded. “It was lost because the ritual is in an old dialect that was dying out even two hundred years ago.”

He found his glasses on the coffee table, and rose from the couch, combing a hand through his hair, only half paying attention.

Jenny continued, “If it was translated, there'd be nothing keeping us from using it on the Master.”

He looked at her, suddenly more alert. “You think you can do that?”

“I think I did.”

Rupert blinked, eyes wide, lips parted. Jenny felt the smile that she couldn't hold back any longer spreading across her face.

“I've been working on it for weeks, but I didn't want to say anything, in case I didn't figure it out.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“It's not too elaborate,” Jenny explained. “I have most of the materials. All I need is an Orb of Thessula, and I should be getting one tomorrow. We can do the spell then.”

A smile lit Rupert's face like dawn across the town. Jenny hadn't seen him that happy since they killed the Anointed One, possibly since ever. He laughed in relief, and Jenny grinned, light-headed from exhaustion and victory.

Jenny squeaked in surprise when Rupert embraced her, lifting her off her feet, before dissolving into laughter and hugging him back.

He kissed her.

For a moment she enjoyed it, and was happy. But then all at once he seemed too close. Coming together for comfort or distraction was one thing, but this was something else, something that frightened her.

She backed away. Rupert's smile faded, and he cast his eyes downward, as if aware that he had transgressed a boundary.

Jenny pushed her hair back, and collected herself. One celebratory kiss didn't mean anything. They were tired and giddy, and as friends who regularly slept together they were bound to get their emotional wires crossed at some point. She told herself it didn't matter.

She smiled again. “I could really use some coffee.”

Rupert looked worried, which made it worse. “Jenny, I'm sorry,” he said. “I-I wasn't thinking.”

“Of course,” Jenny said dismissively, heading back to the kitchenette. Instead of looking at him, she focused on pouring coffee. “Don't be weird about it; there's nothing to apologize for.”

She opened the oven and grabbed a bunched-up tea cloth to take out the pizza. As she was setting it on the counter, her hand slipped, and she burned herself on the pan.


	29. Subject: !!!

To: blackmagickat@hotmail.com  
Subject: !!!  
Date: Thursday, 22 May 1997 19:49  
From: jcalendar@sdh.edu

 

I did it!!!!! We're going to curse the Master tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wish Amy was here for this. It's not a complicated spell, it just takes a little power and concentration, and I can handle it, but it should have been her. I've just been thinking about her all day. Honestly, Amy scared me sometimes with the way she talked about power. But I don't know. I just keep thinking, if I'd said something to her, if I hadn't been so intimidated by her mother, if I'd just encouraged her to be more cautious... I don't know. Or if I'd been there, so she had someone else to watch her back. You know I was working on the curse when she was killed. In a way, I feel like she died for this. I know the kids were thinking about her today too.

If things go as planned, then the next email you get from me will be solid gossip and nothing about life-threatening trauma. For example, I'm thinking about putting some distance between me and Giles. It's not that he's getting too attached, we agree about the Hellmouth being the absolute worst place for romance. But it's a concern. I don't know, I'll think about it later, and write to you about all my trivial, non-vampire-fighting thoughts.

Write me back a long email. I want to hear about everything you're doing. I'm so happy for you.

Love,

Jenny


	30. 22 May 1997

22 May 1997

_We may finally strike a major blow against the Master. Jenny has translated a curse that would restore his soul (the details of which will follow this entry)._

_It doesn't seem real. I'm not letting myself get too optimistic. We're assuming that the possession of a soul will incapacitate the Master in some way, but we can't be certain how he'll react. I tried to emphasize this to the children when we told them, though they were still – understandably – uplifted by the news. Thankfully, this means that they've agreed to postpone patrolling for one more night. Now is not the time to be taking unnecessary risks._

_We've arranged everything for tomorrow. Jonathan and I shall assist, and Jenny, of course, will perform the spell._

 


	31. Twenty

Giles woke up early the next morning, anticipation flickering in his chest.

When he got to the library Jenny was already there, setting out materials and going over the ritual.

“Anything I can help with?” he asked.

“I think I've got it covered,” she replied.

She smiled at him, but there was something unmistakably distant about her expression.

Giles considered telling her that he respected and admired her, as a partner and a friend, and that was it. But that could be classified as “being weird”, so he didn't. He wondered how one kiss could be different from so many others, but it had been. Of course he appreciated the physical aspect of their relationship – a great deal – but Giles thought that he would never touch Jenny again if it meant that she'd look at him without that shuttered expression on her face.

He was glad when Nancy arrived, her presence diffusing the latent awkwardness between himself and Jenny.

“Hey, can I help?” she asked.

“Jenny's got it covered,” he relayed.

He was relieved to see that, after days of being deathly pale, Nancy's face was beginning to regain some colour. She really ought to have taken some time off of school to recover, but he supposed that wasn't in her nature.

She dropped her backpack into a chair. “After this, we could just keep cursing vamps, right?”

“Theoretically,” Jenny said. “But we'd need a new Orb of Thessula each time. It was hard enough getting a hold of this one.”

“Once the Master is dealt with, the rest of the vampires should be disorganized and easier to kill,” Giles offered.

Nancy nodded and pursed her lips. She sat down, muttering, “Killing's too merciful for some.”

She stared blankly ahead while chewing on the end of a pencil, and Giles was grateful that she hadn't gone patrolling in that mindset. One of the children losing their composure, taking unnecessary risks, or making senseless mistakes had been exactly what he was afraid of.

He glanced at Jenny to see if she'd noticed Nancy's mood, but she was focused on going over the spell one last time, mouthing the words to herself silently.

The boys arrived in a pack.

“We ready to start?” Oz asked, serious as ever.

“Yep,” Jenny answered. She sat on the table, slid to the centre and crossed her legs.

Jonathan hurried to her side. “What do I get to do?” he asked eagerly.

“Burn sage.” Jenny handed him the branch.

“Cool...”

Jonathan took a seat on Jenny's left, while Giles stood at the head of the table. Nancy got up and began pacing restlessly behind Giles, while Oz leaned stoically against the banister. Larry stood by the circulation desk, arms crossed, with a grim expression. No one said anything, but the air was thick with tension and Giles was sure he could hear what they were thinking – about their dead friend, about the last few horrifying months, and about how there was about to be some small form of justice.

Jonathan lit the sage and waved it in the air.

Giles recited, “Quod perditum est, invenietur.”

Jenny took a breath. With a smooth, measured voice she began: “Not dead, nor not of the living, Spirits of the interregnum, I call. Let him know the pain of humanity. Gods – reach your wizened hands to me, give me –”

Her voice broke. Surprised, Jonathan sprung from his chair, and backed away.

“Give me the soul –”

She was cut off with a breathless gasp.

“Jenny?”

The next second dragged out for ages. Jenny's chest heaved as she gulped for air. Giles tried to step forward and wondered why he was moving so slowly.

Then she grit her teeth, and coughed, “Give me the soul of the Master Vampire! Gods, bind him!” Her voice was rough and grinding, her eyes watered. “Cast his heart from the demon realm, return –”

Suddenly, everything seemed to be happening very rapidly. Jenny choked, and gasped, and didn't recover. Her face turned red, she doubled over, fingers scrabbling at the table top as she struggled for air.

“Jenny!” Giles tried to go to her, but someone grabbed his arm.

He whirled around to see Nancy.

“We have to stop this!” he demanded.

“No!” she said. “That's not what she'd want!”

Giles glared at the girl and jerked his arm from her grasp.

“Return his soul!” Jenny shouted, in control once more.

Giles turned back to her, watching anxiously.

“I call on you, Gods, do not ignore this supplication!”

He prayed that she'd be safe.

“Let the orb be the vessel to carry his soul to him!”

The Orb of Thessula began to glow, brighter and brighter.

“It is written, this power is my people's right to –”

With a shrill snap, the orb burst. Glass sprayed everywhere. Giles hunched away reflexively, he heard the children scream.

Then silence rushed in.

Giles straightened. They all stood, mute and shell-shocked.

Jenny swayed where she sat, as if to music. Blood beaded from nicks and cuts on her face. But she was breathing. At the moment, Giles didn't care about anything else.

Jonathan was the first to speak, wavering and baleful, “I don't think he wants his soul back.”

Blood dripped from Jenny's nose. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she keeled over.


	32. Twenty-One

Giles called the school from the hospital.

“What's going on?!” a distraught Principal Flutie demanded on the other end of the line. “I hear from _students_ that something's wrong with Ms. Calendar, and you rushed off to the hospital with her, and neither of you are going to be at work today! We had to cancel classes!”

Giles shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, and explained calmly, “Ms. Calendar passed out. She's awake now, but the doctors are running tests, and she won't be in for the rest of the day. Neither will I.”

“What happened?!”

It crossed Giles' mind that he could lie, but there wasn't much point. “We tried a spell to curse the Master.”

Flutie made a distressed noise. “What is _wrong_ with you?” he asked. “We're educators, not some kind of heroes! It's our job to teach students, and keep them safe.”

“Of course,” Giles replied indifferently.

“I expect you to remind Ms. Calendar of that as well!” Flutie continued. “And I'll see both of you on Monday. Even in Sunnydale, children need to learn!”

* * *

Giles returned to Jenny's room, where the doctor was just wrapping up. Outside, the sky had turned a gentle gray, and rain began to patter softly against the window. In London, the rain had only made the city seem slick and grimy, dousing its citizens with a metallic odour. But it Sunnydale, it seemed to wash things clean, leaving the town greener and more alive. It rained so little there.

“Everything seems normal,” the doctor said. “Of course, we can't test for the after-effects of magic. I guess I'd just recommend rest.”

Jenny nodded, and Giles noticed that her eyes were glassy and dilated. “Thank you,” she said.

“And if you want a little something to take the edge off...”

She gave him a spacey look. “I'm fine.”

“Yes, thank you,” Giles added curtly.

The doctor shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He left.

Jenny pressed a palm to her brow and squeezed her eyes shut.

“How do you feel?”Giles asked.

“Like an old car at a monster truck rally.” Carefully, she stood.

In a second, he was at her side. “I'm sure they won't mind if you want to rest for a while,” he said.

Jenny shook her head. “Let's just get out of here.”

* * *

Everything was fog and lights, and the echo of something sweet in her ears and static on her tongue. It was strange to Jenny, how she felt so bright and weightless, yet so crushed.

_It didn't work._

Those words hadn't made sense to her when she first heard them, and they still didn't.

Rupert drove her home, and hovered at her side as she made her way to her room. She fell into bed like it was a cloud, soft and sinking and floating.

“I can stay here,” Rupert said, and she giggled, because it was a silly thing to say. Sunnydale was quarantined, where else would he go? The two of them both would stay, stay together, side by side. Of course Rupert would stay, reliable as he was. Like that first night, when he'd stayed, side by side with her. With his crossbow.

Jenny turned to him and smiled, and mimed shooting him in the heart. She fell asleep.

* * *

When Jenny woke up, the fog was gone. She thought that she would never forget how it felt, how strange, and almost comforting it was. She wondered if Amy had experienced the same thing.

Giles was not gone. He sprung up from the couch when she wandered into the living room, weary and anxious, and encouraging her to eat something.

Jenny wasn't hungry.


	33. 24 May 1997

_24 May 1997_

_Vampires attacked the shopping mall today. They'd been waiting inside, and when the mall was filled with people, they struck. Dozens are dead. We aren't even safe during daylight hours now._

_Jenny is barely recovered from her attempt to curse the Master, and she's already talking about setting up protections around the school so the same thing doesn't happen there. She's not wrong, but I worry about her well-being._

_Though I do have to question how much of my concern is purely selfish. I am in love with her. I realised that yesterday. ~~It is terrible, to want~~ ~~If anything were to~~ ~~She is~~ ~~I~~ The worst of it is that I feel that I've betrayed her trust. Our partnership is too important, to both of us, to ruin for this. I remind myself that Jenny is capable and resilient. She knows what she's doing._

_The children are patrolling tonight. Since they cannot be reasoned with to scale back their activities, I shall accompany them._

_At any rate, I've been thinking that perhaps we should start looking at vampires, not merely as targets, but as sources of information. We've been taken by surprise too often as of late. I'm tired of not knowing what the future holds._


	34. Inbox

To: jcalendar@sdh.edu  
Subject: About Everything I'm Doing  
Date: Friday, 23 May 1997 18:32  
From: blackmagickat@hotmail.com

 

Hi Jenny!

Oh thank the gods!!!! I'm sending you e-hugs! 

So... The magic store job is turning out to be pretty cool. We have some regular clients who really know their stuff. There's this old lady with the creepiest glass eye you could imagine, and this dude who wears thick foundation and an old hat that I'm pretty sure is covering up horns, but they're really nice. I'm learning a lot just by being there. It doesn't pay much, but I get free coffee and sandwiches from the cafe in the front. I thought this was just going to be a gig to tide me over until the next real job, but I can actually see myself being happy here. 

Anyways, what I know you're really waiting to hear about: the first date was amazing! We went for a picnic and talked for hours. Leyla's really spiritual, and she's been on all these pilgrimages all over the world, and has so many amazing stories. I was afraid she was going to think I was boring, but she didn't at all, she said I was cute and really funny. She walked me back to my apartment, and I think she could tell I was really nervous, but she kissed me (!!!!) and said she can't wait to go out with me again!!!!!!!!!

I've basically been in a dreamy haze the past couple of days, just thinking about Leyla. She's just so...  _ everything _ . 

Mutsa's settling into the new apartment well. I was kind of worried, because I'm technically not supposed to have a pet, but as soon as the landlady saw her, she started going on and on about how much she loves cats, and I couldn't get away from her for about half an hour. 

This might bring down the mood of the email a little, but I want to tell you that you're doing the best you can, and there's nothing you should blame yourself for. And I wouldn't be surprised if Giles  _ was _ "getting attached" to you, because you're amazing. You're a freaking warrior just for surviving in Sunnydale. 

Good luck with the spell, 

Kat

 

* * *

To: jcalendar@sdh.edu  
Subject: Double-Checking  
Date: Wednesday, 28 May 1997 07:77  
From: blackmagickat@hotmail.com

 

Hi Jenny, 

Just making sure you got my last email. The second date was just as great as the first, but I'm not going to tell you about it unless I know you've been following the whole story. And I want to hear about how the spell went. Let me know.

Kat

* * *

To: jcalendar@sdh.edu  
Subject: ???  
Date: Monday, 2 June 1997 17:35  
From: blackmagickat@hotmail.com

 

Hey, write me back.

* * *

To: jcalendar@sdh.edu  
Subject: Seriously, write me back  
Date: Sunday, 8 June 1997 21:21  
From: blackmagickat@hotmail.com

 

I asked the elder woman if you died, and she said no, so I know you're just ignoring me.

* * *

To: jcalendar@sdh.edu  
Subject: Please Reply  
Date: Monday, 9 June 1997 07:01  
From: blackmagickat@hotmail.com

 

Janna, I'm worried. I don't need an explanation or anything. Just let me know that you're okay.

Love,

Katja

 


	35. Twenty-Two

As summer approached, Giles found that it was, in fact, too hot for a three-piece tweed suit. Though he started every morning with the best intentions, by the time the final bell rang, he was always in shirtsleeves, rolled up to his elbows. Still, he made the effort. The act of presenting himself as he had five months ago, as if he were the same person he was then, was reassuring.

More reassuring were the pills that he kept in his desk drawer, next to the scotch. They made his pulse race, but they also made him feel like there was logic in the world, if he could only figure it out. He could think clearly, about many things, all at once. Sometimes too many things. Which was why he kept the scotch.

He spent all day rereading every bit of scholarship he could find on the Hellmouth and on the Master, hoping that he'd missed something before, that some weakness would reveal itself to him, or some pattern that could provide guidance. With single-minded concentration he scoured through texts and tomes, oblivious to the passing time, until Jenny strode in after the final bell.

"Your cousin called here today," he said by way of greeting. 

Jenny cleared a space at the other end of the study table. After a second, she blinked distractedly. "What?"

"Katja?" He explained, "She said she wasn't able to get through on your home line. She's worried about you."

She shook her head, and began setting her things out. A map of the town, a charred piece of wood. "Right. I need to email her."

Giles watched her take off her leather jacket and drape it over a chair. There were goosebumps on her arms, and her shoulders were sharp under her summer dress. "I told her that you're fine, and you've just been busy," he said.

"Thanks." 

Jenny sat cross-legged on the table top, and began drawing on the map with the wood. Giles got up from his seat and went to the stacks to select a few more books from the shelves, his gaze flitting curiously towards Jenny.

"What are you doing?" he asked. 

"The sandalwood is blessed," she said, attention focused on the map. "If I colour in the places that are protected on the map, I can test the strength of the protections from here."

"Multiple places?" He walked back down the stairs. 

Jenny still didn't look up. "Yeah."

Giles felt as if his heart had been replaced by a rodent on a wheel – it didn't beat, it whirred. He told himself there was nothing to worry about, as soon as he was alone he'd have a drink and he'd realize that. So he tried to be casual as he asked, "I thought you'd just warded the high school?"

"I did all the schools," she said matter-of-factly. "You really thought I decided to let kindergartners become lunch meat?"

Giles quirked a smile in spite of himself. Her intentions were correct, of course, but that didn't ease his concern. "It won't help anyone if you over-exert yourself," he said carefully, setting his books on the table and standing besides her. 

"I'm fine," she said tersely. She took a breath, and added more calmly, "Actually, I was thinking about expanding the protections to the hospital as well."

"Ooh, talking about magic?" Jonathan asked, as he and the other kids walked through the doors. He and Nancy came closer, while Oz and Larry went to the book cage, picking out weapons and protective equipment. 

Jenny sighed and furrowed her brow in concentration, making angry scrawls on the map. "Just about the warding around the town."

Giles noticed Jonathan and Nancy exchange a look. Oz and Larry glanced over as well. 

"I can help," Nancy said.

“Nancy, you can't even pronounce  _ Invoco te _ correctly.”

The girl frowned and crossed her arms. 

Jonathan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Maybe I..."

"You can help by being quiet!" Jenny snapped, finally looking up from her work. Her skin was pale and there were circles under her eyes, but the eyes themselves were clear and sharp. 

Larry stepped forward. "Yeah, I think what they're saying is we're all worried about what the magic's doing to you." 

Jenny stared at Larry, and he stared back, restless and angry as he'd been the past few weeks. 

Giles raked his fingers through his hair and paced towards the circulation desk. It was a relief to know that he wasn't the only one worried about Jenny, that his concern wasn't merely the result of his affections and chemical stimulation. But the children were not helping the situation. 

"You look like crap," Larry continued. "And you've been acting like –"

"That's enough," Giles interrupted. 

Larry and Jenny continued to glare each other down. 

It was Oz who broke the tension. "Come on guys. Let's hit the gym." 

Nancy and Jonathan exchanged one more look, went to the book cage to pick up their weapons, and walked out. Larry didn't move. 

Oz handed him some boxing pads. "Come on, Larry. Let's go," he repeated. 

Larry took the pads, and with one last glare, headed for the doors. 

Oz waited until he was gone before turning to Jenny, and saying softly, "You're not the only one who feels guilty about Amy, you know." Then he, too, left. 

Jenny said nothing, but went back to her work, scribbling and muttering and passing her hands over the map. Giles sat down again and continued with his research, watching Jenny out of the corner of his eye. 

When she began folding up the map, he mentioned, "When I was younger, I used to do a fair amount of magic."

"Yeah? How long ago was that?" 

"About twenty years ago, but..." She cut him off with a patronizing look. Suddenly, he no longer cared about being diplomatic. "Jenny, they're not wrong. You're not strong enough to keep this up on your own."

"And you're an alcoholic, so..."

She said it coldly and dismissively. Giles opened his mouth, but no words came out, as if he'd been silenced by a punch to the solar plexus. He blinked. 

Jenny stopped what she was doing and shut her eyes. She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. 

There was nothing Giles could say. So he got up, went to his office, and shut the door.

* * *

Jenny's hands were shaking. Without Rupert there, the library felt old and oppressive, like centuries of witches and pagans were watching her, judging the amateur in their midst, perhaps punishing her for Amy, for Angel. They were all right, she wasn't strong enough. But she'd always known that. She might not be able to keep it up forever, the magic might be hurting her, but at least, for now, she was doing something. The town had been out of their control for so long, but now she was able to draw a line, say, "not here," and make it so. 

Letting go of the magic, even just easing back a little, would mean dropping the one thing that was keeping her from falling into a void of helplessness. But the magic was a fog; it wrapped itself around her and hid her from the world, and she could feel herself getting lost. 

She went to Rupert's office and knocked on the door. He didn't answer. She considered the possibility that he had a right to be angry with her for a while, and that she should leave him be. 

She opened his office door. 

He was leaning against the wall, absentmindedly cleaning his glasses and staring into space. Jenny had half been expecting to find him drinking, and was glad that she was wrong.

"Rupert..."

He put his glasses back on, and crossed his arms, but didn't look at her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." 

He shrugged. "No, it's true." 

"I know," she said, voice close to a whisper. 

A great silence stretched between them. Jenny didn't know what else to say. 

The night after the curse had been the last time Rupert stayed over at her place. She'd stepped back from him after that, after that last kiss, and he hadn't asked why. But somehow the distance she'd created was more than just physical, and she felt so alone as she struggled to keep her feet on the ground, to keep the magic from sweeping her away. She was scared for him, too. 

"Perhaps it's for the best if I avoid magic," he finally said. 

Jenny didn't disagree. If she was having a hard time maintaining her protections and wards while sober, she couldn't imagine how it would affect him. "Why'd you stop practicing?" she asked. 

"Someone died," he answered plainly. 

Jenny balked, then collected herself. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not particularly." He finally turned to her, with a distant loneliness in his eyes. "Maybe another day."

She wanted to reach out to him, touch him and calm him. She wanted feel his weight on her, holding her down. But there was a gap between them now, and she didn't know how to bridge it. 

She tried anyways. "You must have some advice, at least."

Rupert scoffed. "Amy learned more about magic in two months than I ever knew." 

Jenny stepped into his office, and sat on his desk, facing him, arms at her sides. "Tell me anyways."

He did. 

She listened, and let his voice wash over her, pulling her down like the ocean, like magic. 


	36. Twenty-Three

Oz manoeuvred his van around the pools of light cast by the streetlamps in the shopping mall parking lot, driving slowly to keep the noise of the engine at a minimum. When Giles caught sight of a pair of figures struggling in the shadows, Oz gunned the motor, bringing the van to a screeching halt next to the vampire and its victim.

Giles and Oz jumped out of the van, brandishing crosses. The vampire bolted.

Before Oz could give chase, Giles told him to look after the victim and ran after the vampire himself.

The vampire escaped towards a parking garage, and up the ramp at the entrance. Giles caught up enough to take aim with his crossbow, and shoot the vampire in the leg. It fell.

Giles jogged over to his quarry, switching his crossbow for a hatchet from his messenger bag.

In life, the vampire had been a man in his thirties, prematurely balding, with over-developed biceps. Now it writhed on the ground, skin ghastly and pale in the sickly light of the garage, struggling to pull the bolt from its leg. Giles swung his hatchet and lopped off the vampire's arm, right below the elbow. Before it could scream, he stepped on its throat.

"You've still got three limbs," Giles said. "You can keep them if you tell me about the Master."

He eased the pressure on its neck.

The vampire cradled his stump to his chest and whimpered in confusion. "What?"

"Where does he spend his time?" Giles prompted.

"At the Bronze?"

"Where does he hunt?"

"He doesn't," the vampire said. "His lieutenants bring him kills."

"Who are they?"

"Used to just be Luke," it gulped under Giles' shoe. "More and more, Willow and Xander."

Giles nodded. "Tell me about the Bronze."

Suddenly, the vampire swung its good arm, and swept Giles' feet out from under him.

Giles hit the pavement, while the vampire leapt up and fled.

It ran straight into Oz. The boy shoved the creature into the wall, and held a stake to its heart.

Aching, Giles climbed to his feet.

"Answer the man's question," Oz said calmly.

Giles concealed his surprise as he approached. He hadn't told Oz that he'd been interrogating vampires.

"I don't know!" the vampire sputtered desperately, voice echoing off the concrete walls. "It's where we live?"

"And the Master?" Giles asked, "Where does he live, exactly?"

"Backstage."

"How many guards?"

The vampire shook it head as much as it could in its position. "He doesn't need guards, he's the Master!"

Giles rolled his eyes. "So during the day, when he sleeps..."

"The Bronze never sleeps." In spite of its situation, the vampire managed to snigger. "There's always a party going on."

Oz's grip tightened on the stake, he began pressing it into the vampire's chest.

It's demeanour changed immediately. "I swear, I'm telling you as much as I can!"

"One more question," Giles said. "What's coming next?"

The vampire looked bewildered.

Giles elaborated, "Taking over the motel, killing Amy and the mayor, attacking the mall – these things were planned in advance. There's a method at work. Someone had to know beforehand. So, what's next?"

"I don't know! I swear, I'm not important, I'm nobody, you can let –"

Giles caught Oz's eye. Oz plunged the stake into the vampire's heart.

* * *

The vampire's would-be victim was a retail worker who had taken a bit too long to close up. Oz drove him home. He watched until the man disappeared safely through his front door, and then said to Giles, "You're gonna need to give me some context for what just happened."

"What do you mean?" Giles evaded.

"Well, it looks like you're planning to attack the Bronze without telling any of us."

"I'm not planning anything."

Oz gave him a skeptical look.

Giles sighed. "Not yet. I just want to know if there's a chance."

"To get at the Master?"

Giles shrugged and nodded.

"Sounds like a suicide mission," Oz said evenly.

Shaking his head, Giles said, "It's a chance to risk our lives for something worthwhile, and put an end to all this."

"Again... suicide vibe."

Giles wondered how Oz could be so cautious, when he'd been so adamant about patrolling before. Perhaps what he was suggesting was truly unachievable. Giles tried to imagine what his reaction would be if one of the children had proposed the same thing.

“I wouldn't go into anything blindly,” Giles finally said. “And not without your – all of your – assent.”

Oz nodded thoughtfully. “You talked to Ms. Calendar about what you haven't been planning?”

“Not recently.”

“What'd she say?”

“She avoided the topic,” Giles admitted. “But that was when she was working on the curse.”

Oz nodded again, and shifted the van into drive. “I'll bring it up with the gang.”


	37. 13 June 1997

_13 June 1997_

_I doubt that anyone will ever read this. Or that any of us will make it out of Sunnydale alive. The only real reason we've lasted this long is that it's not in the vampires' interest to destroy the town outright. They keep us scared and scattered and helpless, but they don't kill so many as to wipe us out. We're animals to them._

_And absurdly, life goes on. The last staff meeting of the school year was today. Principal Flutie is as dedicated to providing education as ever. Jenny and I spent the entire time writing notes to each other on ways to simplify her protections, to make them more manageable. With the schools empty, she'll be able to rest more. She still hasn't recovered from the curse entirely. I sometimes want to inquire after her eating habits, but she'd probably consider that too familiar._

_I find myself fantasizing about Sunnydale being a normal town, and Jenny and I being normal colleagues. As if “normal” had ever been a possibility for either of us. If I weren't a Watcher, and her people hadn't cursed a vampire, and we'd met by chance, and somehow learned to not hate each other... or maybe if the Master simply hadn't risen... I'd like to think that there's some possible reality in which we might've been happy._

 


	38. Twenty-Four

The last day of school was oppressively hot, the air thick and humid. At the final bell, students dashed out of class, even though sunset wasn't until eight that night. The entire town had developed the tendency to get where they were going as quickly and as early as possible. But being the last day of school, the teenagers hurrying frantically through the hallways, whom Giles dodged around on his way to the computer lab, seemed almost normal.

He found Jenny standing outside her classroom, leather jacket wrapped tightly around her, talking to a young math teacher whose name he'd forgotten.

“I hope I'm not interrupting,” Giles said as he approached.

“Not at all,” Jenny said, turning to leave with Giles. “Bye, Craig!”

“Um, maybe we could talk later?” Craig asked as they walked away from him.

Jenny tossed a noncommittal “Yeah, sure,” over her shoulder and continued on her way.

“What was that about?” Giles asked, as soon as they'd rounded the corner, surprised at her sudden departure.

Jenny rolled her eyes. “He wanted to know if I've been feeling okay.”

Giles smiled at her exasperation, but only because she'd started to take his and the children's concerns about her health seriously.

“Don't say, 'I told you so,'” she added.

“I wasn't planning to,” Giles assured her. “Though I thought I might remark on young love on the Hellmouth.”

Jenny responded to his teasing about Craig's obvious crush with a friendly glare.

He smiled. He and Jenny might never again be as open with each other as they had been, before the curse, but things had gotten better between them. They could help each other as partners and friends, and though Giles wished things – many things – were different, he thought that friendship was more than he could have hoped to find in a place like Sunnydale.

“What brings you out of your cave, anyways?” Jenny asked.

“Oz has convened a meeting.”

The children were waiting in the rapidly clearing lounge, conspiring in a huddle. Giles pulled over a couple of chairs to join them, and they broke apart.

“So, we've been talking,” Oz started.

“About what?” Jenny asked, taking the chair Giles offered.

“Giles' plan to take out the Master.”

Jenny looked at Giles sharply, and he realized that he probably should have warned her that this conversation was impending. Still, Oz was making it sound like more of an omission than it was.

He rolled his eyes as he sat down. “It wasn't a 'plan'.”

Unperturbed, Oz continued, “And we decided that it's not worth the risk.”

“Yeah, like, no offence,” Larry interjected, “We'd all like to kill the dude, but it's a dumb idea.”

Plan or not, Giles wasn't happy with their outright dismissal of the notion.

“At least right now,” Nancy said.

Giles looked at her curiously.

She continued, “We're not strong enough, and we don't have a clear angle of attack. We wouldn't survive a minute if we went after the Master in The Bronze, and we don't know how to draw him out.”

Larry nodded. “Like I said, dumb.”

Giles shot him an annoyed look, to no effect.

Nancy leaned forward. “But then we got to thinking –”

“Nancy thought,” Jonathan corrected.

“Okay, _I_ thought: What if we went after someone else, someone the vampires don't really care about, but who could help us?” 

“What do you mean?” Giles asked, brow furrowed.

“Angel,” Jenny said.

She wasn't quite smiling, but Jenny's face suddenly had a lightness to it that Giles hadn't seen in weeks.

Nancy nodded. “You said he's still alive. And I saw what he could do on that first night, how well he could fight. At the very least, he's bound to have intel on the Master, and we'll get to do some recon on The Bronze without putting ourselves in too much danger.”

Giles opened his mouth to question that premise, but Oz cut in, “We already did the legwork.”

“Without telling us,” Giles said.

Oz shrugged. “Learned from the best.”

Giles pulled off his glasses and wiped them clean.

“They just keep him locked in the basement,” Jonathan elaborated. “Hardly anyone goes down there, no guards or anything. Oz figures he knows a way in that they wouldn't pay attention to.”

“There's a basement window that doesn't lock,” Oz explained. “Devon used to sneak his kid brother in when we played shows there.”

“If we can pull this off,” Nancy said, “then maybe we can start thinking about bigger goals.”

Giles replaced his glasses, and glanced at Jenny to gauge her reaction.

The not-quite smile still played at her lips, and she had a distant look in her eyes, as if she hadn't been listening to the conversation at all.

“So, whatd'ya say?” Oz asked.

Jenny answered without hesitation. “We're doing this.”


	39. Subject: Re: Please Reply

To: blackmagickat@hotmail.com  
Subject: Re: Please Reply  
Date: Thursday, 19 June 1997 23:11  
From: jcalendar@sdh.edu

 

Hi Kat,

Sorry for not writing for so long. The thing is, I didn't want to write another goodbye email. Not that I'm about to do anything more life-threatening than usual, but after the curse failed, I felt like every day would be the last one. But that's just normal Hellmouth drama. I'm feeling much better now, so don't worry about me.

Of course I want to hear all about the second date! I bet there's been a few more since then, too. Leyla sounds like a wonderful person. Just try not to fall in love too quickly, okay? At least take your time to enjoy it.

If you're going to be learning more about magic, take your time with that too. I guess that's my advice for everything – magic, love, life. Take your time with all of it.

And keep writing to me about it. Even if I don't reply right away. You're the sunshine in my life.

Love,

Jenny


	40. Twenty-Five

“I still don't see why I have to wait in the van,” Jonathan complained, as they drove towards The Bronze.

It was past midnight, and Oz drove slowly, taking care to avoid any signs of life, or of the undead.

“Because you're tiny and impulsive, and no one wants you screwing up,” Larry chided.

“Hey, I've trained as much as any of you –” Jonathan protested.

“That was mean –” Nancy said at the same time.

“I'm saying we don't want you to hurt yourself – ” Larry argued.

“You mind piping down?” Oz chimed in, as he cut his headlights and slowed to a crawl. They were getting close. He added, “We'll need to get away fast, it's an important job.”

Not paying attention to the commotion from the kids, Jenny tuned over the lock pick set that Giles had given her in her hands. He'd taught her how to use it that day, since she didn't know any spells for breaking locks. He'd offered to be the one to use it himself, but Jenny had insisted that she free Angel. “He'll know me,” she'd said. But more than that, she had a responsibility to him. She remembered when she'd seen him, his face changing from that of a monster, to a man who had tried to be a hero, the look in his eyes when they'd met hers. She hadn't invited him in then, but now she could set him free. It was too late to do anything for Amy, but with Angel, Jenny could still make things right.

They came to a stop in an alleyway a block away from The Bronze. Silently, they all piled out of the van, and Jonathan climbed into the driver's seat.

“Good luck,” he whispered, and gripped the wheel in readiness.

Oz led the way to the back of the club. There was a row of basement windows, all of which were barred, except for one on the end, which was covered by a heavy wire mesh. Oz dashed out of the alleyway and knelt by the window. He shook the mesh, testing it. Jenny worried that he'd make too much noise, even though she could hear the droning bass of music from within the club.

Oz took out a screwdriver, and unscrewed the wire mesh from the window frame. He set it aside, climbed into the window well, and pushed the window open. He waved for the others to join him.

One by one, Oz, Jenny, Nancy, and Giles slipped through the window and into the basement of The Bronze. It was a tight fit for Giles; his jacket caught on the frame and tore. He cursed softly, and took it off, throwing it on the ground, before taking his crossbow from Larry, who stood guard outside.

Underneath the club, the music was clearer. Jenny could hear wailing strings over the beat that reverberated in the floorboards over her head. A narrow concrete hallway stretched out to the left, and turned a corner to the right, lit by bare light bulbs that weren't quite bright enough to reach every shadow.

Oz and Nancy nodded to each other. She stood at the ready with her sword, while he led Giles and Jenny around the corner. They walked in silence, until they reached another branch. On one side the hallway continued, on the other was the entrance to an access tunnel.

“Around the corner up ahead,” Oz whispered. “First door on the right.”

Giles nodded to him, and Jenny smiled briefly.

“Be safe,” Oz added, as the two of them continued on, leaving Oz to guard against any vampires returning early from the hunt.

They followed Oz's instructions. When they reached the door, Jenny tested it. It was unlocked.

She looked at Giles, and he raised his crossbow, peering down the hallway ahead. Jenny was glad he was there.

She entered the room.

Like the rest of the basement, it was unfinished concrete, lit by a single bare light bulb. There were boxes gathering dust by the door, a closet door to the left, and a boiler rumbling and groaning in one corner, drowning out the music from the club.

The opposite end of the room was closed off by heavy bars. A man was crouched on the ground, shirt in tatters, his dark head bowed. Chains tethered his feet, and another linked his wrists, passing through a ring on the wall over his head. Angel.

He didn't look up as she approached, but Jenny could feel the history of generations between them. Amy's words about connection and will power replayed in her head. She left the lock picks in her pocket, and closed her fist around the padlock on the cell door. It opened in her hand.

Angel finally noticed her when she opened the cell door, and shrank away reflexively. Jenny could see scars, and the imprints of crosses on his chest.

“Do you remember me?” she asked softly.

He narrowed his eyes and studied her face. She came towards him, and unfastened the chain that linked his wrists from the wall. He lowered his arms with a clatter, rubbing his sore muscles.

“The woman with the candle, who challenged the Master,” he said, voice rasping and dry.

She knelt down. “My name is Janna, of the Kalderash.”

His eyes widened in recognition.

“I'm here to help you.”

He didn't seem calmed by the news. Jenny realized that it wasn't just recognition, but fear in his eyes. And it was directed at something behind her.

* * *

Giles waited anxiously outside, trying to measure how long Jenny was taking by his breaths, since every second seemed to stretch into eternity. He could hear the boiler on the other side of the wall rattling, mixing with the sounds from the club like some hellish music. Then, in the midst of the noise, he heard a cry, high and lilting and cut short.

Crossbow at the ready, he burst into the room. Jenny was struggling against a vampire who held her by the wrists, a girl in black leather with red hair and a wild, playful gleam in its eyes. Another vampire – a boy, pale and swaggering – was emerging from the staircase to the left.

Giles aimed at Willow, but she tugged Jenny in front of her, one hand around her neck. He swung his aim at Xander.

Xander froze.

Jenny choked, Willow digging her black fingernails into her throat. Jenny's eyes were watering and furious.

The boiler thunked in the corner, as heavily as Giles' pulse, pounding in his head, it's rhythm echoed by Jenny's laboured breathing. Willow's hand closed tighter with every second he kept his crossbow trained on Xander. Giles' finger twitched at the trigger. He could take the shot; he could miss. Either way, Jenny would end up dead.

Willow smirked at Giles over Jenny's shoulder, and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Slowly, Giles crouched down, and carefully placed the crossbow on the ground. He stood, holding his arms out, palms open.

Xander grinned, and leaned against the cell to watch.

* * *

Jenny glared at Rupert, willing him to kill Xander and Willow, to shoot her through the heart if he had to, anything to keep them from winning again. But he didn't. He put the crossbow down.

It wasn't fear that Jenny felt, but a steady, pressing grief, drawing her life out in wheezing gasps.

“Look Xander,” Willow said next to her ear, and Jenny was surprised at how little her voice had changed. She sounded delighted. “My two favourite teachers came for a visit.”

Out of sight, she heard Xander speak, behind her and to the left. “You know how they say, those who can't do, teach? We've got the living proof of that.”

Willow ran a finger tenderly down the side of Jenny's face. “Well, not living for long.”

A rebellious anger flared in her, and Jenny jerked against her captor. But Willow just tightened her hold again. Jenny choked, and her vision began to turn gray around the edges.

“No!” she heard Rupert shout, as if from far away.

Willow loosed her grip, and Jenny gulped for air. She saw stars, and when the stars cleared she saw Rupert, half a step closer, hesitating and afraid, eyes wide and helpless.

“Please,” he said desperately.

Willow purred, “Beg me for her life.”

“Please, I-I-I-I'll d-do anything.”

“Trade your life for hers?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, and Jenny hated him.

She hated him for playing their game, and herself for being caught, and Sunnydale for existing, and vampires, and the Master, and the girl who held her life in her hand, and the boy who sniggered besides her.

“Yes,” Rupert said. “Kill me, just let –”

“Bored now,” Willow interrupted.

Her fingers pressed slowly into Jenny's flesh, and her lips brushed against her ear.

“Last words?”

“Jenny, I –” Rupert said, shaking and panicked, and in the breath in between Jenny could hear the “love you” that was to follow.

All the sorrow and anger that had been weighing on Jenny in her final moments came down with crushing force. Searing anger that her last thoughts would be of regret for what she and Rupert never could have had, of fear for what would happen to him even if he escaped, of guilt for his grief, because she loved him too, she knew that now; and god, was there ever anything more useless and painful to feel? And she hated him, for saying that to her, for making her feel those things. That fury must have lit a fire in her eyes, because he was struck silent. He didn't finish what he had to say.

But it was too late. She already knew.

 


	41. Twenty-Six

Xander watched as Willow gradually squeezed Jenny's life out of her, biting his lip and running his hand up the bars of the cell. Willow focused her attention gleefully on Giles, his desperate expression, his body trembling with every panicked breath.

For Giles, the vampires no longer mattered. Jenny was dying in front of him, and he felt with certainty that his life was about to end as well, along with Willow's and Xander's. He'd see to it.

A clattering scuffle pulled Giles' gaze away from Jenny. Willow whipped her head around to see what was happening, while still holding her victim fast.

Angel was struggling with Xander, the chain that bound his wrists around the younger vampire's neck. Xander clawed at the chain, but he was helpless. Angel held Xander in front of him in a mirror of how Willow held Jenny.

“Bad puppy,” Willow said with icy fury.

“Let them go,” Angel growled. Jenny's eyelids began to droop. She gasped weakly. Willow didn't move.

“You think I can't take his head of?” Angel challenged. He tightened the chain. It bit into Xanders's skin, making his eyes water and his jaw clench. “You think I won't!?”

Willow dropped Jenny. She fell to her knees, panting and heaving and _alive_. Giles rushed forward and knelt to hold her by the shoulders, Jenny's fingers curling feebly around his arms.

Willow ignored them, and turned to face Angel fully. “Give me Xander!” she snarled.

“Not until they're gone.”

Giles helped Jenny to her feet, and supported her as they staggered to the door. He could barely process what was happening, his only thought was to get out of The Bronze as quickly as possible.

But Jenny looked back. Her gaze met Angel's. She didn't turn away until they rounded the corner, and he was out of sight. 

* * *

It wasn't until they were back in the van and speeding away from The Bronze that Oz asked what happened.

“Willow,” was Giles' reply. “And Xander.”

Larry swore and pounded seat in front of him with his fist.

In the back of the van, Jenny sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, curled in on herself, away from the others, away from Rupert, trembling and swallowing compulsively. She felt flat, and empty.

Nancy, oblivious to her lack of desire for company, put an arm around Jenny's shoulder. Unexpectedly, Jenny found that she was comforted.

She closed her eyes, and shut out the rest of the conversation.

“They were supposed to be hunting!” Larry fumed.

“They weren't,” Giles said.

In the front, Oz tapped Jonathan's arm and told him to slow down.

He did, and glanced at his passengers in the rear-view. “You guys are lucky to be alive.”

Oz added, “I'll take that win.” 

* * *

Giles suggested they take Jenny to the hospital, but she refused, saying that she just needed sleep. When she shut her eyes and rested her head on Nancy's shoulder, he felt his pulse spike with the residual fear that she wouldn't wake again.

They stopped at her building, and Giles began to get to his feet, but Jenny asked Nancy to help her up to her apartment.

“Will you be alright?” Giles asked.

“I think we'll manage,” Nancy answered, as she climbed out the back of the van.

Jenny didn't say anything.

As they waited, Giles told the boys about what happened in more detail, cutting himself off every time he thought he saw some movement that indicated Nancy's return.

When he was done, they began talking in low and heated voices, though Giles didn't listen to what it was about, his attention focused on the front door of Jenny's building.

Finally Nancy appeared. She ran across the driveway, cross in hand, and jumped into the van.

“How is she?” Giles asked anxiously.

Nancy pursed her lips, like she was considering how much reveal. She shrugged and shook her head. “Pretty shaken up. She's asleep now.”

Oz switched seats with Jonathan, and pulled out of the driveway.

“She told me what happened,” Nancy added.

“What did she say?” Giles asked, as if he hadn't been there. But he was worried, and desperate for any indication of Jenny's state of mind.

“That Angel saved her life.”


	42. Twenty-Seven

Jenny wasn't able to fall asleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, it was as if the darkness was reaching for her, and she felt sick. Eventually, she stopped trying.

She stripped off her clothes and went to the shower, setting the shower head to a fine needle spray that stung her skin and assured her that she could still feel something besides the soreness around her neck. The bathroom filled with steam, warm and comforting and heavy in her lungs.

Afterwards, she wiped the fog from the mirror with the palm of her hand. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her bones stood out under her skin. Bruises were darkening on her throat, fingers of blue and purple and yellow. It hurt to swallow.

She put on a dress, light and loose fitting, falling to her ankles. Anything else felt constricting, except for her leather jacket, which felt like armour.

The sun was rising as she left her apartment, tinging the clouds gathering overhead with red.

She'd only ever been to Rupert's place once before. At the time, she'd thought the courtyard of his building was charming, with its warm stucco and sparkling fountain. But that had been in sunlight. Now, the vines climbing the walls appeared sinister, the metal-plated door, ominous. The first few impatient raindrops of the storm to come fell in her hair.

Jenny knocked.

She wasn't surprised when Rupert answered quickly, despite the early hour. He was still dressed in his trousers and shirt, sleeves rolled up and collar open. His glasses were missing, and stubble darkened his jaw.

“Jenny!” he exclaimed in surprise, his bloodshot eyes sharpening in focus.

“I needed to talk to you,” she said.

A few more raindrops fell before he thought to step aside to let her in.

As soon as she was inside, her sense of foreboding eased. Being there was grounding, like the sound of Rupert's voice, like his arms around her. The apartment was filled with old wooden furniture, musty books, artifacts and nick-knacks. A Tiffany lamp cast a comforting glow from Rupert's desk, and the green of the walls went with his eyes. She looked around and noticed things she hadn't before – the ancient television tucked into a corner, the collection of vinyl records by the wall. She also noticed the decanter of scotch on the kitchen counter, a little prescription bottle at its side.

Rupert closed the door, and walked around to face her. “You look, um...”

“Like I've spent the past couple of hours throwing up and crying on my bathroom floor?”

He didn't smile at her glibness, but the concern in his eyes was tinged with affection. “You're not well,” he said.

Jenny looked pointedly at the pill bottle. “Neither are you.”

He leaned against his desk, burying his hands in his pockets and not meeting her eyes.

“Rupert...”

He looked at her, as if from across a great divide.

Her voice broke as she said, “You can finish what you were going to say now.”

She knew he understood what she meant. He bowed his head and raked his fingers through his hair, clenching his jaw.

“Jenny...” he said, as if he was going to refuse, or make an excuse. He hesitated.

She waited.

He took a breath. “I love you.”

She felt hot tears welling up, and shut her eyes. She realized that a part of her had known that he loved her for a while, though for how long she couldn't say. Since their last kiss, since he showed up drunk at her door, since he promised to not fall in love with her. She didn't know how long she'd loved him. Not that it mattered, or that anything mattered in Sunnydale.

A few hours ago, Jenny had felt numb, and she wished that she could have stayed that way.

Outside, the rain began to pick up, drumming against the windows.

“I'm sorry,” Rupert said softly. “I didn't intend –”

“No, I love you too.” Jenny sniffed and pushed back her hair.

He stared at her with parted lips and a softness in his eyes.

“Don't act like it makes things better,” she said.

He blinked. “No.”

She swallowed back tears, throat aching. “How are we supposed to live like this?” she asked, voice close to a whisper.

“I don't know,” Rupert said.

Thunder sounded in the distance, and Jenny felt like she'd never escaped the clutches of death.

* * *

Giles hadn't been to sleep, and the buzz of alcohol was fading directly into a dull ache behind his eyes. And now Jenny stood before him, hurt and in love with him and hating it. He felt helpless.

She squeezed her eyes shut and ran her fingers into her hair, curling them against her scalp. She breathed deeply, wincing with every breath.

Carefully, Giles stepped closer to her.

“Jenny?”

She opened her eyes.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. She lowered her arms. He smoothed back her hair, and she sighed and leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her. He'd missed being close and unguarded with her, and he held her tightly.

The rain beat against the windows, creating a curtain of noise and the illusion that nothing existed outside that room. The clock on his desk ticked softly, out of time with Jenny's ragged breaths.

“We help each other,” Giles said. “As we have been.”

* * *

Jenny loved Rupert for saying that, and making it sound like it would be enough.

She looked up at him, clutched his shirt collar, and pulled him into a kiss. Into a series of kisses, short and tender, biting gently at his lips.

Lightening flashed distantly.

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply.

When he pulled away, she heard thunder.

“We make it through together, or not at all,” she said.

He caressed her face and tangled his fingers in her hair. “Together,” he echoed.

“Or not at all,” Jenny repeated adamantly. “Don't ever leave me,” she said, knowing it was an impossible thing to ask, and not caring. Rupert had made her fall in love with him, the least he could do was promise to not die.

“Never,” he said. He looked tired and worn, but his hands held her firmly and his eyes sparked with intensity. He kissed her, like a promise, and breathed against her lips, “Never leave me, Jenny.”

“I won't,” she said.

Thunder rumbled closer.

* * *

They kissed, hungry and desperate, and Giles found that he'd forgotten how long it had been since he'd last held her. Since before the curse, but how many weeks ago was that? It was dark outside, and he wasn't sure what time it was, or what day. He was exhausted, and felt like he was tethered to reality by only the narrowest thread. By Jenny's lips, and hands, and being.

She pulled off her jacket and dropped it on the floor. In the flash of lightening, the bruises on her neck stood out starkly against her too-pale skin. She began to unbutton his shirt, but he caught her fingers and pulled them away. He held them in place with one hand, while the other skimmed lightly over the dark patches on her throat.

She sucked air between her teeth, as thunder crackled.

“Jenny,” he said, cautioning.

She kissed him fiercely, and it was a few seconds before he gathered the willpower to grasp her by the shoulders and push her gently back.

“You think I don't know what state I'm in?” Jenny said. “How damaged I am?”

Giles wanted to hold her tightly, and push her away, and kiss her, and look after her, and make love to her. There was a voice in the back of his head telling him to stop, and think.

“We're in love. Can't we have this one day?” she said. Her eyes shone when she looked at him, with all the strength and spirit she'd ever had. As if the past few months hadn't weakened her, but had distilled her soul. He was drawn in completely.

Giles kissed her, like he was helpless to do anything else.

Jenny wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her forehead against his. Lightening flashed, followed closely by thunder.

“We're going to go upstairs,” she said, “and make love,” he felt his heart beat faster, “and nothing else is going to matter.”

* * *

In the loft, Jenny could hear the rain pelting the roof, loud and rhythmic. With a crack, lightening lit up the apartment.

She stood by the bed, and dragged Rupert into a heated kiss, pressing her body against his and curling her fingers in his hair. His hands skimmed up her sides and her back, caressing her shoulders and pushing down the straps of her dress. She knelt on the bed, and he dipped his head to kiss her shoulders, her collarbone. She sighed, and shivered. His hands slid around her body until he found the zipper. He pulled it down, and her dress dropped off her form, leaving her naked except for her panties.

She finally finished unbuttoning his shirt, and he quickly pulled it off, kneeling on the bed besides her, He kissed her, cupping her face with one hand, caressing her breast with the other. She ached to be closer to him.

They finished undressing each other clumsily and piecemeal; Rupert didn't seem to want to occupy himself with anything but touching her, didn't want his lips to leave her skin for more than a moment, and she felt the same.

When at last they were both naked, Jenny lay on the bed, and pulled Rupert down next to her. She twined her leg around him, feeling his cock press against her hip. Her fingers traced patterns across his back, and she kissed his jaw and neck, stubble scratching against her lips. His moans and sighs were punctuated by thunder.

He closed one hand on her hip, and pushed her so she was lying on her back. They kissed, his fingers pressed between her legs, and Jenny threw her head back against the pillows, ready to lose herself in him. He kissed her breasts, lips and tongue playing gently at her nipples, while he teased her clit with his fingers. Jenny shut her eyes tightly, and it was only the crack of thunder that let her know that the flash she saw was from lightening, and not the rapidly coiling tension at her core. Then his mouth travelled lower, and without his body over hers, she felt exposed, and vulnerable. Rain beat like a stampede overhead, and her heart raced to match.

“Rupert? Come here.”

He crawled up the bed again. Jenny turned so that her back was pressed against his chest; she could feel his breath on her cheek and his cock pushing against her rear. His right arm stretched out under her head, and she laced her fingers with his. She craned her neck over her shoulder and kissed him.

* * *

The pounding rain, the creaking wooden bed, the thunder and the sounds escaping Jenny's lips as Giles rubbed her clit combined in an irresistible rhythm. Jenny jerked and rolled her hips, grinding her rear against his cock, and Giles buried his face in her hair. He kissed the back of her neck and grazed his teeth over her shoulder, muttering curses against her skin.

Jenny curled one of her legs over his, and raised her hips so that his cock slid between the wet lips of her cunt. Giles moaned her name. She took his hand from between her legs and clutched it between her breasts, her skin hot and slick with sweat, and he could feel her heart beating rapidly underneath. She sank slowly onto his cock as he held her tight against him. She felt small and fragile in her arms, and at the same time vast and electric, like a storm, and he was lost in her.

* * *

They made love slowly, and urgently, caressing and clutching at each other with gasping breaths, limbs tangling as they moved together. Jenny came, starting with a warm glow in her centre that made her toss her head back against Rupert's shoulder, and ending with a burst of light behind her eyes; and he squeezed her hand tightly in his, and came into her with a ragged groan.

They held on to each other, as if the other would drift away should one of them let go, and kissed softly until they fell asleep, the impossible promises on their lips fading with the thunder.

* * *

When Giles woke up, the sky was a blank gray, and raindrops beaded on the window panes. Jenny was breathing evenly next to him, her face as blank as the sky, free of worry and fear. He brushed her hair off her forehead. She opened her eyes.

“You can go back to sleep,” he said.

“I was already awake.” She shifted closer, and brushed her lips gently against his.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“In love,” she replied with an expression that said she was leaving it up to him to determine whether that was good or bad. Then she smiled, and added. “And hungry.”

“I could make you breakfast,” he suggested, his mouth curling upwards.

Jenny laughed softly.

“Or possibly lunch,” he said, wondering how long they'd slept.

She nestled against him, caressing his chest with her fingertips. “Lay here with me for a while first.”

He ran a finger along the line of her jaw, traced her lips, and kissed her.

“And how are you?” Jenny asked.

“I'm considering running away with you,” he said.

Jenny's lips quirked up. “No you're not.”

“Not really, no.” Watching Jenny sleep, Giles had considered it seriously, the possibility of creating another reality in which they might be happy. But even if they managed to find some way around the quarantine, he'd never be able to live with himself if he left, and he knew Jenny would feel the same way.

She was studying his face, gaze flitting from his lips to his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

Giles lay back, and Jenny curled around him, resting her head on his chest. He ran his finger through her hair.

“I thought we'd go to a city where no one would know us,” he began. “I'd find a job in a library, perhaps you would work in an office. We'd be married.”

She giggled.

He chuckled too, and continued, “Buy a house, own a dog...”

“You really are kind of a fuddy-duddy, aren't you?” Jenny said fondly.

They talked about leaving Sunnydale, knowing that nothing would come of it, knowing that the place they'd made for themselves was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I’m alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling, and they’re only a few steps behind you, finding the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren’t stitched up quite right, the place they could almost slip right into through if the skin wasn’t trying to keep them out, to keep them here, on the other side of the theater where the curtain keeps rising. I crawled out the window and ran into the woods. I had to make up all the words myself. The way they taste, the way they sound in the air. I passed through the narrow gate, stumbled in, stumbled around for a while, and stumbled back out. I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn’t a kingdom then I don’t know what is.”   
> Richard Siken - Crush


End file.
